Monday, May 4 – South Sound Umpires: Gig Harbor @ Timberline
With all the rainouts early in the season, there were two groups I could not manage to get games with – Lower Columbia (Longview, WA area) and South Sound (Olympia). Since the final three weeks of the season I had committed to the east side of the state, I glumly accepted that I was not going to get these two groups in. Much to my surprise, Gig Harbor and Timberline had a final regular season contest scheduled for Monday, May 4. The South Sound assignor Terry (with whom I’ve worked closely closely over the years) was delighted to get me on the game with a couple of his playoff caliber umpires in preparation for three umpire mechanics.
After a relaxed pre-game (including another couple of umpires who wanted to experience the pregame as well as take notes) I strolled onto the field with my partners. They asked that I take the plate, as they felt that working bases was more challenging in the three umpire system (which is a true statement). I was thrilled knowing that, other than my hometown assignment Thursday, I was able to get in all groups this spring except Lower Columbia. With the way the weather started the season I count that as a huge win.
As we strolled onto the field just prior to pregame, I heard a voice in the stands yell out, “Tim! Tim!” Not being very familiar with the Olympia area I wasn’t sure who (other than Terry) would have known me, much less that I was there. To my surprise it was Jeremy, my partner from my game in Moses Lake. I remembered that he said he was commuting from the Olympia area to the Moses Lake area, and I told him about working at Timberline. I was delighted to see him up there.
The game was, for the most part, unremarkable. Right up until the bottom of the fourth inning. Timberline had a runner on first with two outs, which meant that on any hit ball to the outfield I would have responsibility for a play on the runner from first into third. This rotation is always interesting in three-man, and any time you get a potential tag play at third is exciting. Sure enough, the runner rounded second and decided to try to make his way to third. I was overjoyed. Barring a bad throw, he was surely going to be out – I was going to make the rotation up to third and make a great call and…
SNAP! POP! The back of my right thigh sounded as though a hippo had chomped down on a giant rice krispy. Two bolts of agony shot up into my buttock, and I hopped painfully. I had just enough presence of mind to be able to weakly raise my right arm into a fist. Instead of coming full steam into a glorious bang out, I hobbled my way into a pedestrian arm pump.
As I bent over in pain, the implications rang out to me. In addition to working baseball all these years I also officiated football for 25 years and dabbled in both basketball and wrestling in my younger days. Through it all I proudly (and with not a bit of hubris) declared that I had managed through a half century of not only not having had a season-ENDING illness or injury, I hadn’t even had a season-INTERRUPTING health issue. This is virtually unheard of, as most folks usually at least SOME point or another get dinged up and have to sit it out. But here I was, on the very doorstep of completing my tour with my biggest games still ahead, and I was barely able to walk.
I called both partners in and told them what had happened. I tested my leg and could tell it was nothing I was going to be able to walk off. I indicated that I would do my best to try to finish the game – if there’s any position where I could get away with it, it’s behind home plate. Both coaches nodded in sympathy as I indicated my desire to soldier on. My partners calculated a devised method to cover the bases without my having to rotate toward 3rd, and I went back into position. As I got back behind the plate I looked at the sky and chuckled to myself (and to Tom, my recently departed friend), “You rascal! I KNOW you have something to do with this! You just have to have a little laugh on your way out, don’t you!”
Truthfully, I know when this started coming on, and in hindsight this was preventable. After my Colton game I had a lot of difficulty getting my right plate shoe off, as I pushed the right heel of my shoe with my left toe, I felt my hamstring start to strain. I had actually slightly injured myself this was a couple of years ago this way, so I knew to stop as soon as I felt the sensation. A couple of times throughout the rest of my games in eastern Washington I felt a small bit of flaring, but I was cautious with it. I thought it had worked itself out, but in truth I had weakened it enough that it was prime to pop.
While I never cheer for any outcome, I was relieved when Gig Harbor added enough runs in the top of the fifth to take a ten run lead. I was still able to get into a crouch, so calling pitches was okay. Gig Harbor knocked the ball around pretty well to the point where there were no challenging calls, so that was a relief. Mercifully, Timberline went down in order in the bottom of the fifth, and the game was ended by the mercy rule.
As I limped my way off the field I couldn’t help but be concerned about what lie ahead. I was only three days ahead of my final stop on the tour – the homecoming game. I had handpicked my crew and everything. Was I even going to be able to make it? I also knew that in addition to that I had some big district tournament assignments ahead, and I was in line to wrap up my career with a state championship tournament assignment. I’d worked with enough other umpires who had their seasons ended with hamstring issues that I felt a bit of despair set in.
Okay, I know the drill. RICE – rest, ice, compression, elevation. I have a thigh sleeve from my episode a couple of years ago (which, had I worn it today, would probably have prevented this from occurring in the first place1). Wendy has a great contraption that wraps around any portion of the leg and pumps ice water through a neoprene wrap, so I will be strapping that on. Hopefully I can limp (literally) my way through Thursday and make it through the final stop of my tour.
I’m not giving up on keeping my streak intact.
