I awoke to the staccato of rain echoing in my tiny trailer right on schedule. The prediction for yet another “atmospheric river” was right on schedule, which meant only one thing to me – my game in Puyallup was going to be gravely in jeopardy.
I dressed sleepily in the pre-dawn hours and pulled out of my campsite at Kalaloch. I still had some work to do remotely for the day and knew there was no 5G signal to be had in this remote section of the Olympic Peninsula, so would have to get to Aberdeen before my meetings began.
The drive was dark and haunting through the tall trees of the rain forest. Highway 101 is a narrow and winding two-lane passage among the forest. In this section it bends significantly inland, leaving the longest stretch of road free beach in the country to the local tribes. I finally reached Aberdeen, the primary city on Grays Harbor, and grabbed a coffee before settling in at the Walmart parking lot to start my work day.
My signal worked just fine in my trailer, and I was able to prop myself into a fairly comfortable position to get things accomplished. At one point the rain pelting my trailer was so loud I was sure that the others listening in on Zoom had to wonder what was going on. As my last meeting wrapped up I looked on Google Maps for a route out of town. As I looked at the route I noticed an interesting point of interest a few blocks from where I had stationed myself – Kirk Cobain’s Childhood Home.
I wasn’t really a huge fan of Nirvana but was curious to see the house and neighborhood of this compelling artist. As much of a tourist draw I’m sure it must have been, it was just a non-descript house in a gritty section of an even grittier town. One look around the bleak quarter of town lent significant insight into the angst that drove his lyrics and driving music.
The rain followed me all the way to Puyallup, the oddly spelled and pronounced town to the south and east of Tacoma. I was glumly sure that we would be rained out again, but my research of the ballpark indicated it was turfed and the forecast called for the rains to abate later in the afternoon, so I found a coffee shop to stop and do some more work. I felt like taking a pre-game nap, then suddenly realized – wait a minute, I have a bed behind my car! I delightedly climbed into my trailer and drifted off for a snooze.
The rains eventually stopped and gave way to high winds, which apparently accelerated drying the unturfed section of the field. Much to my surprise, the game was on! I pulled into the parking lot behind Rogers High School and met up with my partners Bob and Jeff. Although this game was assigned by Pierce County Umpires, Bob also works for the Northwest (Seattle) association, which is my home group. As a result Bob and I had worked to together numerous times. I was delighted to have him as a partner.
Puyallup has been a baseball dynasty for the past several years. They have been a regular at the state tournament, finishing in the top four every year. Although they were defending state runners-up at the highest classification they lost a lot of talent to graduation, as well as their head coach via retirement. This was going to be a different team.
The visiting South Kitsap team gave them a tussle for a few innings, but Puyallup’s pitcher was too overwhelming. As we got into the fifth inning – usually when starters begin to lose their edge – Puyallup’s pitcher hit his groove. He finished a complete game in impressive manner in a spirited but very ordinary game.
Well, ordinary in all respects except one. in about the bottom of the fifth inning the Puyallup Head Coach did something so exceedingly rare that I couldn’t even think of the last time it happened.
He actually talked me into changing a judgment call.
The pitch was low and inside, way inside, but started to break back toward the plate. The batter stuck his knee out and the ball hit him. I ruled that the batter stuck his body into the pitch – a common tactic to “buy” getting on base. I called time and pointed at the plate, ordering the runner to take a ball and stay at bat. The coach was clearly agitated, but kept calm as he insisted that the ball was starting to head inside and that the batter’s motion was an attempt to avoid where he thought the ball was GOING to go. As I replayed it in my head one thing became very clear – the action was clearly more one of AVOIDING to get hit, rather then ATTEMPTING to get hit. As the coach turned to walk back to the third base coaching box I summoned him back. His irritation turned to surprise when I told him his argument was convincing, and I decided to reverse my decision. I announced, “the runner’s actions were consistent with reasonable avoidance, he is awarded first base.” The fans who had been catcalling my original ruling politely applauded. More important, the South Kitsap coach did not say it word. It clearly was the proper call.
In the end, one big “Never mind.”
Wait, wasn’t that the title of a Nirvana album?
Coincidence? I think not…
