This Umpire Made the Right Call

Youth umpire, making the right call. Photo by Author.

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“I need to talk to you,” I said, squeezing in next to my son, who was lounging on the window bench seat in the family room.

His eyes widened as he took them off his iPod and pulled his headphones down around his neck.

My hands were one on top of the other on my knee as I twisted to face him. “I think you’re making the wrong decision about umpiring today.”

The umpire coordinator had called 30 minutes before, looking for an umpire for a game at 2:00 that afternoon. (She’d called my number because I had just that morning suspended service on my son’s line when the phone didn’t come back with him from his class trip to Washington, D.C.).

My son had slouched and groaned when I took the phone away from my ear, pressed it into my shoulder, and whispered to him, “She’s asking if you can do a 2:00 game.” He was already scheduled to work a 4:00 game.

“C’mon,” I’d cajoled. “You can earn back some of the money you lost. (His wallet had remained in our nation’s capital along with his phone.) It’s a good opportunity.”

I’d held the phone out to him with my hand over the mouthpiece.

“Uhhhnnnnng,” he’d sighed. “I really don’t want to.”

I’d snatched the phone back. I wasn’t going to get into a discussion with him when his boss was hanging on the line. “He says he doesn’t want to umpire a second game. I am sorry, he just got in late last night from the 8th grade trip,” I’d explained to the umpire coordinator. “He’ll be at the 4:00 game.”

“Okay, I understand the age. Thanks anyway.”

But it didn’t really sit right with me. I’d rearranged furniture in the family room so the carpet could be vacuumed, nudging my older two boys who’d been lounging on the couches out of the way, and they’d immediately settled in on the window seat. Hmmmph. I suppose I could dream up some chores for them… I’d wandered off to soak the breakfast dishes and move laundry around.

However, even housework takes a back seat to a paying job…There was no way I’d feel good about my oldest sitting around until 4:00, when he had the chance to do something more productive with his time. I had to figure out a way to convince him to do (what I think is) the right thing, willingly and enthusiastically. I’d pondered this while I folded a load of clothes.

And that brings us back to the beginning of the story with him just looking at me — silently — after the proclamation of my opinion that his decision was wrong.

I took his silence as a sign to continue, “When I was your age, I would have jumped at the chance to earn the extra money.”

Silence, still.

“Do you think I would tell a boss ‘no’ if I were asked to do something like this? How do you think I got another job so quickly after being laid off?

“I don’t know.”

“It’s because I have good references.”

My son was gazing off in the general direction of the lighthouse picture on the wall. Thinking.

I knit my eyebrows and looked at my hands, thinking before continuing.

“Imagine this: What would you like this boss to say about you when you’re applying for your next job? Do you want her to say things like, ‘he’s a team player,’ ‘he goes above and beyond,’ ‘he’s always ready to pitch in when asked’ or would you want her to say, ‘Yeah, he’s a good umpire…when he wants to be.’ ”

I placed one of my hands over my son’s hand, the one without the iPod, and our eyes met. I said, “I’m going to call her back and tell her you’re on board for the 2:00 game, okay?”

I realized I was holding my breath.

“Okay, Mom.” No groan or sigh this time.

“Good decision.” I patted his hand a couple of times and got up, waiting until I had walked downstairs to exhale.

I paced as I called the umpire coordinator back. The phone rang and rang, and finally she answered.

“Hi So-and-so…I wanted to let you know that my son and I had a little chat about work ethic and teamwork, and he’ll be happy to umpire the 2:00 game as well.”

She chuckled. “I’m glad to hear that. My son’s game was cancelled, so he’ll be plate ump; your son can do bases. My son’s just a year older than yours, and we went through a similar situation last year. I didn’t know how much I should say earlier, but…” and we wound up having a short chat about encouraging our kids to make the “right” choices.

“Thank you so much for your validation,” I said before hanging up. “And next time he’ll be making the call himself!” We both laughed. I had explained to her the bit about the lost cell phone earlier.

“Okay, you’re all set,” I announced to my son from the doorway to the family room. But, because you hesitated, she found someone else and you got bases, not plate. I trust next time you’ll say ‘yes’ right away.” (Plate umpires earn a higher wage.)

“Yeah.”

“Okay, so you have two hours of leisure before we have to leave for the field.”

“Okay, Mom. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” I started to head back down to the kitchen.

“Hey Mom…?”

“Yes.” I paused on the landing, without turning around.

“When do you think I can get a smartphone?”

I rolled my eyes and shook my head, even though he couldn’t see me, and sang over my shoulder as I continued towards the dishes. “Hon, your timing is rather inopportune, given that you just lost your phone.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t lose my iPod. And if I only had to keep track of one device, it wouldn’t have gotten lost…” he called from the stairway, hopefully.

It was my turn to be silent then.

P.S. Thank you for reading! Please follow me on Medium for more stories like this: https://medium.com/@carolineposer