When I was in my 20s, in Eugene, Oregon, we had a family friend who did the weather forecasts on the local ABC news affiliate. Dave was quirky and funny, with his own unique style and vernacular. He dressed up in a super hero outfit as “Weather Man” and used terms like “T-Boomers!” for thunderstorms.
One of his other terms – one which got used a lot around Eugene – was MOTS.
More Of The Same.
March 2026 in Western Washington has been a case study in MOTS, where the only variance is even weirder weather.
I finally got my first game in after a third attempt at Centralia, this time managing to get in a game in which a neighboring group was able to rent out the turf field at the college there. It was exciting to finally get the tour going, but I had to drive through about an hour of pounding snowstorm (seriously, in March!) to get there. To show how bad the weather has been I had to get routed completely off the main interstate because the pounding rains tore such a huge hole in the interstate along the way that several lanes were blocked for emergency repairs.
Jason and Kevin were great partners to open the season with. Both from relatively small towns on the Washington coast their passion for sports and officiating showed in all of our conversations. While they didn’t have a lot of three-person experience, they were eager to learn and did a fantastic job on the field. Even the sharp winds left us alone, and we enjoyed a few blessed hours enjoying our craft.
Game #2 was the “home show” on the tour – the home opener for the local high school in my home town. I worked with my friend Ken, who was both overjoyed to get a game in and curious about my trailer setup, which was ready for games on the road the next three days. We managed to get the last out of a season-opening 3-2 barn-burner just before the last rays of daylight disappeared. After the game we upheld our tradition of visiting Ken’s favorite restaurant to catch up on stories.
It turned out that was the last of the functional weather for baseball. After finishing my preparatory packing I drove south for my four day stand. Along the way the weather continued to bandy back and forth, clearing and then pouring, clearing and pouring. Along the way I got news that my game for TOMORROW was already canceled. This did not bode well. After another half hour I saw the call come in that I dreaded – my game for today was also canceled. Undaunted, I called Jan (for whom I had the cancellation last Wednesday) to see if any games were going on today that I could slip onto. At the same time, I received word that efforts were being made to move tomorrow’s game. After a short period of hope on both, I got the shut down – no games today or tomorrow. I was 100 miles from home but I knew that there was no other choice than to turn back.
The forecast for the next several days is MOTS. Officially, this is a La Nina year, in which warm and wet weather is standard. But talking to fellow baseball folks who have been around a long time, none of us can remember a spring with the weather this consistently untenable. Flood watches are up in the area, and a fresh rounds of rain begin to pound outside my window even as I type. I’m sure that other are having even greater adversity as a result of these MOTS, but it sure has been a frustrating start to something I’ve been dreaming of for so long.
In the movie “Airplane” Lloyd Bridges repeatedly stated the line, “Looks like a picked the wrong week to…” as he indulged in whatever vice he was trying to break. For me, it looks like I picked the wrong year to plan a venture that was so weather dependent.