To some they were just problem kids and cast-offs.....

Last night Miss Elizabeth and I were watching the baseball playoffs on television....Okay, okay, let me rephrase that.  Last night we were sitting on the sofa and the television was tuned to the ball game, I was watching and she was working on one of her  needlework projects. Occasionally I would make a comment to the TV, and she would raise her eyes briefly to see what had transpired.

The Cardinals were winning as the hapless Brewers were committing error after error, leading to several unearned runs for the Cards.  The starting pitcher for the Brewers was frustrated by the lack of defensive support, but there was little he could do to correct the ineptitude of his infielders.

I've seen it all before.  Last night just reinforced the notion that it happens at all levels, all the way from little league to the professional championship series.  As I watched thrown balls go awry, batted balls skip under player's gloves, and Zach Grienke's displeasure, it took me back to another game where I witnessed a similar display.

When I was in college I worked a number of part-time jobs to pay the bills.  One of jobs was as an umpire for a youth baseball league in Tulsa. The kids were young, maybe 9-10 years old, and were just learning the fundamentals of the game, including some rules of baseball etiquette.....My job was more than just calling balls and strikes, it sometimes required a firm but gentle hand to keep the kids on track.

My favorite team that year, and yes umpires are allowed to have favorites, was a group of rag tag kids from the Tulsa Boys Home. To some they were just "problem" kids and "cast-offs" whose parents were either unable or unwilling to handle them. My favorite player was a little mop-haired bundle of energy who pitched for that team. I loved that kid....and he responded. We were buddies.

He was a good little pitcher, competitive, animated, and just a little bit bossy toward his team mates, especially in games like the one the Brewers were having last night. One night he had just about had it with everyone, including the umpire behind the plate, and when a call at home went against his team he let out a stream of expletives that had every one's ears burning.

Uh oh!  He knew he had stepped over the line when he saw me taking long strides to the mound. I was glaring at him, and he was not quite sure what to expect. His eyes were wide and his little body was shaking as I arrived to "make the call".  He had disappointed me ,and I could see the remorse in his face.  Tough call for a young umpire.

I waved off his coach as I knelt down to look him square in the eyes. His heart was pounding when I put my arm around his shoulders and asked, "Do you have something you need to tell me?"  He didn't know what to say, so I asked again, "Don't you think you should apologize for what you just did?"

His voice was barely a whisper, "Yes sir, I'm sorry."

"Now, you're going to sit on the bench for the rest of this game, and after the game we're going to meet with your coach and your team mates for you to apologize to them too." 

It was hard for him, but he did it. He stood there and said he was sorry, and I think he really meant it.

I don't know if it was the right thing to do or not, but we never had to have another conversation about his behavior on the field. I'd like to think that maybe it made a difference in his life, but what do I know?