by David Nemec
Third baseman John McGraw of the Baltimore Orioles was only slightly more subtle in his modus operandi. On an outfield fly, while the umpire watched to make sure it was caught, McGraw would grab the belt of the runner on third waiting to tag up and try to score and then release it when the umpire’s head whipped around to catch the play at the plate. That split-second holdup was often enough to prevent a run. One day Honus Wagner was on third base as a member of the Louisville Colonels and had not been in the majors long, but he knew about McGraw. The moment a fly ball was hit to the outfield, he returned to third base and prepared himself as he felt McGraw seize his belt. When the ball was caught, Wagner took off for the plate and made it with ease. Back on third base with his mouth open stood McGraw holding Wagner’s belt, which Wagner had undone while waiting at third to tag up, as he’d known in advance about McGraw’s tactics. Precise documentation of this incident remains to be found, but its portrayal has been in existence for more than a century and is in absolute keeping with the rugged and imaginative way both McGraw and Wagner played the game.
As might be expected, the one-umpire system also licensed baserunners to evade the rules when they thought an arbiter was not watching them. Among the many tricks reputedly invented by the 1890s Baltimore Orioles was bypassing third base when an umpire’s back was to the runner. But in point of fact this shortcut was taken by baserunners long before the Orioles became a National League power. One the earliest documented instances of it came in a critical American Association game at Sportsman’s Park on September 23, 1883, between the St. Louis Browns and Philadelphia Athletics.
The two teams had been in a season-long struggle for the AA pennant, and the Browns badly needed the game to stay in contention. In the ninth inning, St. Louis trailed, 9–1, and had two outs. Joe Quest was on first base for the Browns and breaking toward second as a groundball was hit. Seeing that the play would be made at first base, umpire Charlie Daniels turned his back to the diamond, and Quest wheeled around second and sprinted straight for home. When Philadelphia first sacker Harry Stovey dropped the throw, Quest was able to score. The partisan St. Louis crowd jeered the A’s as they protested the run to no avail. However, Quest’s tally only narrowed Philadelphia’s lead to 9–2, and George Strief, the next batter, made the argument over his teammate’s creative bit of baserunning moot when he flied out to end the game.
8.01 (c)
Each umpire has authority to rule on any point not specifically covered in these rules.
Even though the game has existed in more or less its present form for well over a century, practically every umpire who has worked at his craft for any length of time has run into a situation the rulemakers have still not satisfactorily addressed.
Umpire Wesley Curry rose to an unanticipated challenge in an American Association skirmish at Eclipse Park in Louisville on July 9, 1887, between the Falls City club and Brooklyn Bridegrooms. With Brooklyn leading, 4–2, Louisville loaded the bases. Reddy Mack then scored from third on an infield boot and hovered near the plate to coach teammate Bill White as he raced to beat the throw home from Bridegrooms shortstop Germany Smith. Seeing that Brooklyn catcher Bob Clark would get the ball before White arrived, Mack intentionally jostled Clark, preventing him from tagging his sliding teammate. While Mack and Clark continued to tussle, Joe Werrick proceeded to tally what fans thought was the third run on the play, putting the local club ahead, 5–4.
Wesley Curry, a former professional pitcher seen here in 1880s umpire’s garb, made a gutsy groundbreaking decision in 1887 as an American Association arbiter.
But Curry declared White out at the plate and also disallowed Werrick’s run, claiming that Mack had illegally obstructed Clark. Although Curry’s ruling seems now to have been the only viable verdict under the circumstances, at the time it triggered a storm of protest when Brooklyn ended up winning the game, 4–3. In 1887, there was still nothing in the rule book that dealt with the problem that had been thrust upon Curry. His dilemma was that, in the 1887 manual, only a baserunner could be guilty of obstructing a fielder, and the moment Mack crossed the plate he was by definition no longer a baserunner.
Curry’s decision, though it was reviled in Louisville and condemned even by many impartial observers, ultimately was viewed as entirely reasonable and resulted in the creation of an ancestor to Rule 8.01 (c)—formerly Rule 6.01 (a) 4—that deems any member of an offensive team who stands around any base and hinders a fielder guilty of interference.
8.02 Appeal of Umpire Decisions
(a) Any umpire’s decision which involves judgment, such as, but not limited to, whether a batted ball is fair or foul, whether a pitch is a strike or a ball, or whether a runner is safe or out, is final. No player, manager, coach or substitute shall object to any such judgment decisions.
Because an umpire in the early days worked alone and rule makers recognized that he could not see everything, before 1881 he could either reserve making a decision on a matter of judgment until he had taken a poll of spectators and players who might have had a better view of a play than him or else reverse a decision he had already rendered if the testimony of a witness to a play was convincing enough to change his mind. Although it was frowned upon, some umpires continued to seek help from spectators until 1887. However, also in 1887, when batsmen for the first time were universally given their base if they were hit by a pitch, the rule was amended, restoring an umpire’s right to consult with a player before rendering a decision. Underlying the revision was a recognition that the newly adopted rule made it necessary on occasion for umpires—especially when they were calling the game from behind the pitcher—to confer with batters and catchers before deciding if a hitter was struck by a pitch and a free base should be awarded.
By 1897, an umpire was no longer permitted to ask a player for help in making a decision. In fact, umpires were instructed not to reverse any decisions in which the sole question involved was whether there had been an error of judgment. Yet players and managers continue to object to umpiring decisions, and they always will regardless of the rule against it. How long and how vociferously they can object depends largely on the umpire. New umpires can expect to have the length of their fuses immediately tested. Only the caveat regarding contesting ball and strike calls stands firm. Almost all other decisions rendered as per Rule 8.02 (a) at the very least can be protested under the replay rule.
Rule 8.02 (c) Comment: A manager is permitted to ask the umpires for an explanation of the play and how the umpires have exercised their discretion to eliminate the results and consequences of the earlier call that the umpires are reversing. Once the umpires explain the result of the play, however, no one is permitted to argue that the umpires should have exercised their discretion in a different manner. The manager or the catcher may request the plate umpire to ask his partner for help on a half swing when the plate umpire calls the pitch a ball, but not when the pitch is called a strike. The manager may not complain that the umpire made an improper call, but only that he did not ask his partner for help. Field umpires must be alerted to the request from the plate umpire and quickly respond. Managers may not protest the call of a ball or strike on the pretense they are asking for information about a half swing. Appeals on a half swing may be made only on the call of ball and when asked to appeal, the home plate umpire must refer to a base umpire for his judgment on the half swing. Should the base umpire call the pitch a strike, the strike call shall prevail. Appeals on a half swing must be made before the next pitch, or any play or attempted play. If the half swing occurs during a play which ends a half-inning, the appeal must be made before all infielders of the defensive team leave fair territory. Baserunners must be alert to the possibility that the base umpire on appeal from the plate umpire may reverse the call of a ball to the call of a strike, in which event the runner is in jeopardy of being out by the catcher’s throw. Also, a catcher must be alert in a base stealing situation if a ball call is reversed to a strike by the base umpire upon appeal from the
plate umpire. The ball is in play on appeal on a half swing. On a half swing, if the manager comes out to argue with first or third base umpire and if after being warned he persists in arguing, he can be ejected as he is now arguing over a called ball or strike.
Much of the material in this comment added to Rule 8.02 (c) is a comparatively recent innovation. For more than half a century after the major leagues began to use at least two umpires in a game on a regular basis in the early 1900s, the team on defense had no recourse if a home- plate umpire’s vision was blocked or some other circumstance prevented him from accurately gauging whether a batter swung at a pitch and he refused to consult with a colleague who might have had a better view. Now a defensive team can force the issue simply by signaling that they want a second opinion.
The italicized section in the above comment makes it clear that a runner has no grounds to protest if he is thrown out when he sets off for second base after the plate umpire has called a fourth ball on the batter, only to have a base umpire, on appeal, rule it a checked-swing strike. Nor, for that matter, can the catcher protest if the runner makes second uncontested before the base umpire calls the pitch a strike. In a 1906 game between the Pittsburgh Pirates and Chicago Cubs, Pirates player-manager Fred Clarke occupied third base with the bags loaded and a 3-and-1 count on the batter. When the umpire said nothing and gave no sign on the next pitch, Clarke assumed it was ball four, forcing him home, and started trotting toward the plate. Both the catcher and batter also thought it was a free pass. As the catcher tossed the ball back to the pitcher and the batter headed for first, Clarke touched the plate. Suddenly the umpire erupted and cried, “Strike two!” When everyone looked at him in amazement, he sheepishly admitted that he’d been unable to speak right away because something had been caught in his throat.
Since time had not been called, the umpire had no choice but to rule that Clarke’s run counted. The official scorer in turn had to credit Clarke with a steal of home, albeit unintentional. Given this undeserved assist, Clarke finished his career with 15 thiefts of home.
8.02 (d)
No umpire may be replaced during a game unless he is injured
In the event a replacement is not available for an umpire who is injured or becomes ill during a game, the umpiring crew will work the rest of the game a man short. This is a fairly common occurrence nowadays and not much of a hardship, with four-man crews the norm in regular season games, and six in postseason clashes. Some seventy years ago, however, sometimes only two umpires were assigned to a game and a player occasionally had to fill in when an arbiter was sidelined. Hall of Fame umpire Jocko Conlan got his start in this fashion.
Jocko Conlan was never more than an average major-league outfielder, but chance furnished him with the opportunity to become among the best umpires and definitely the most dapper man in blue in his time. He usually wore a bow tie when he officiated.
In 1935, Conlan was a backup outfielder with the Chicago White Sox. On July 28, the Sox were playing a twin bill with the St. Louis Browns at Sportsman’s Park on a torrid Sunday afternoon. At the close of the first game, umpire Red Ormsby was overcome by the heat, leaving his partner, Harry Geisel, to handle the second game alone. Since he was out of action anyway with a sprained thumb, Conlan volunteered to help out Geisel by working the bases. When Ormsby was still too weak to officiate the following day, Conlan subbed for him again and was paid $50 by the American League, as was Browns sub Ollie Bejma who handled first base while Conlan worked third base.
Bejma never umpired another major-league game, but Conlan discovered that he liked the job. At the close of the 1935 season, when it grew evident to him that his playing days in the majors were numbered, he accepted an offer to umpire the following year in the New York-Penn League for $300 a month. In 1941, after a five-year apprenticeship in the minors, Conlan was hired as a regular umpire by the National League. He stayed at the job for twenty-five years, distinguishing himself not only for his officiating skills, but for making all signals with his left hand and wearing a bow tie during games.
8.02 (e)
If there are two or more umpires, one shall be designated umpire-in-chief and the others field umpires.
Although it’s not a formal rule that umpires must rotate their jobs, working the plate one day, first base the next, and so on, it has become a sacrosanct tradition, and the umpires’ union would swiftly take issue if the major leagues decided an umpire was so good behind the plate that he should be permanently assigned to calling balls and strikes. Time was, though, when a league could do just that with an umpire’s consent. Bill Klem was so esteemed that he was a National League arbiter for sixteen years before he deigned to begin rotating the crew-chief role with his fellow umpires by working the bases. In his thirty-seven years as an ML umpire Klem worked the plate a record 3,547 times in 5,272 games.
8.03 Umpire Position
(a) The umpire-in-chief shall stand behind the catcher. (He usually is called the plate umpire.) His duties shall be to:
(1) Take full charge of, and be responsible for, the proper conduct of the game; (2) Call and count balls and strikes . . .
In the early years, when an umpire worked a game alone, he generally stood in back of the catcher, even though most catchers then played so far behind the plate when the bases were empty that positioning himself behind them put an umpire at a considerable distance from the batter. In the late 1880s, “Honest” John Gaffney introduced umping in the center of the diamond or behind the pitcher with men on base. Most arbiters quickly grew to prefer working there if only for safety reasons.
When catching equipment improved, enabling receivers to move closer to the plate, umpires accordingly began to officiate behind catchers again when the bases were clear, albeit with some trepidation. Even though a mask had become a standard part of an umpire’s apparel by then, the face gear most arbiters wore provided scant protection. In a Union Association game at Wilmington on September 4, 1884, umpire Patrick Dutton nearly became the first on-the-field fatality in major- league history when a foul tip off the bat of Cincinnati’s Jack Glasscock hit him in the throat. Dutton went down as if he had been poleaxed and lay so still that Glasscock and Wilmington catcher Tony Cusick thought he was dead. But luckily, there was a Doctor Frantz at the game. Frantz rushed out on the field and discovered that Dutton had ceased breathing because a dislocated bone in his lower jaw was pressing on his windpipe. The doctor was able to manipulate the bone back into place, and Dutton soon regained consciousness. Over Glasscock’s vehement protestations (since Cincinnati was leading at the time), the game was stopped before it became official out of respect for the fallen umpire.
Injuries, like the one Dutton suffered, discouraged many umpires from working behind the plate whenever it could be avoided; but standing behind the pitcher was no refuge either. It put an umpire’s back to four infielders and three outfielders, all of which could make his job miserable even when he was able to keep them under surveillance. Lacking eyes in the back of his head, an arbiter often failed to note that a first sacker had dislodged the first-base bag and inched it backward until the distance to it had grown mysteriously to 95 feet, or that a batter had fanned because the second baseman was standing in his line of vision and waving a white handkerchief.
8.03 (a) (6)
Decide when a game shall be forfeited;
The last home-plate umpire to date to forfeit a game was Jim Quick at Dodger Stadium on August 10, 1995, and the events of that evening narrowly missed deciding the NL West winner that season. As Nemec and Miklich describe it in The Complete Book of Forfeited and Successfully Protested Major League Games, “a crowd of 53,361 packed Dodger Stadium for a special Ball Night Promotion that featured as an added attraction the ballyhooed rookie Japanese pitcher Hideo Nomo facing the Cardinals . . . The game was briefly delayed in the seventh inning when several fans started indiscriminately throwing their souvenir balls on the field, but tension did not really begin to mount until the bottom of the
following frame. With the Cards ahead 2–1, the Dodgers had two on and two out with slugging first sacker Eric Karros at the plate. Karros was rung up on strikes and argued the called third strike too vigorously . . . Quick lived up to his name and swiftly ejected him. Fans then began winging balls on the field in protest. Pleas over the public address to cease fire were successful on this occasion.
“After the Cardinals were retired in their half of the ninth inning, Dodgers right fielder Raul Mondesi led off the bottom of the frame against St. Louis closer Tom Henke. With a count of 3-and-0, Mondesi looked at a Henke fastball that he thought was ball four. As he took a step toward fire base, however, Quick . . . called it a strike.”
After Mondesi also was ejected for arguing, Dodgers manager Tommy Lasorda rushed onto the field. Once he too was ejected, “fans let loose a fresh torrent of baseballs from the stands. The umpires hurriedly brought the Cardinals in from the field and waited in the security of the Dodgers’ dugout until the grounds crew had cleared the field. But no sooner had play resumed than the still angry fans unleashed another hailstorm of baseballs. Quick stopped play and forfeited the game to St. Louis.”
The forfeit win meant nothing to the Cardinals, who were mired well below .500 for most of the season, but it nearly cost the Dodgers dearly. The strike-abbreviated 144-game season concluded with Los Angeles a mere one game ahead of the Colorado Rockies in the NL West Division standings.
Note that since the forfeit occurred with the winner by forfeit ahead in the score, 2–1, all stats from the game counted. The rationale for sticking a pitcher with a loss in a forfeited game that goes at least five innings if his team is trailing when the infraction occurs owes to the fact that in many instances a forfeit grows out of events that convince the guilty team it is going to lose the game anyway. Likewise, the pitcher on the team benefiting by the forfeit in some cases gets a gift win.