“I’ve got your back”; music to an umpire’s ears

The groundwork for this post comes from an earlier one, “When someone believes in you, you can’t be stopped” In that post I wrote about a conference for foster parents that I attended this weekend. To our delight, former Seattle Mariner second baseman Deshawn Patrick absolutely mesmerized all of us with his keynote speech and the three sessions he led over the two day conference. His experience as a foster child from age one taught him that as long as you have someone who is always there for you, no matter what goes wrong, you are going to succeed. During the two days he regaled us with laughter and saddened us with tears as he shared vignettes from his rocky start as a youth.

I was totally blown away by Deshawn’s presentations, and once he learned I was an umpire, that opened totally new area of discussions for the two of us. On the way home I was able to draw some parallels between being foster care siblings and part of an umpire crew.

Just as foster children must depend on one another to make it through the day, so umpires must depend on the rest of the crew if the crew is to survive. When my partner is in the “A” slot and he turns his back on to pursue a “trouble ball” he needs to know absolutely that I will come out from behind the plate, observe the touch at first, and take the runner into second if necessary. He needs to know that I will uphold the integrity of our team by doing my job while he does his, If he is worried that I’m not watching the runner, he can’t concentrate on making the tough call he is sprinting out to cover.

Likewise, I really feel as if I have been thrown under the bus when, with a runner on first and me in the “B” slot and the batter launches a line drive down into the left field corner, my partner stands rivited behind home plate, admiring the force of the blow. Now we have runners headed to second and third, the throw about to be rifled back into the infield, and only me in a position to make a good call at second and a really poor call at third. If the throw goes to third, our crew is dead. At best, we both are out of position to make at the call, and at worst, we blow the call. Either way, we have lost credibility.

We could have avoided the disintegration of our team had we 1) done an adequate pregame and 2) followed the plan to which we both had agreed. There is nothing more satisfying to my ears on the field when I hear my partner call, “I got the runner” or “I’m at third if he comes”, and it is not just because we’ve got all the action covered. When he says, “I’ve got your back,” it is affirmation that we are a team, that I have at least one person out there on my side who will stand behind me, no matter what happens. It is the recognition that we are both on the same page as we pursue the course we have set out for ourselves and that I can have full confidence in the only friend I have out there on the field.

Deshawn Patrick did more for me this weekend than make me a better foster and adoptive parent. His frequent references to the value of commitment helped me crystalize my thinking about what it means to be part of an umpire crew and the responsibilities inherent therein. For all of that, Deshawn, I am extremely grateful.