Is This Heaven?

There's not a lot I can say.

I kept thinking this was going to be my big game.  My moment.  The dream of a lifetime.  In other words, all about meeeeee.

Au contraire.  The day belonged to someone else.  I was completely upstaged by a 13-year-old kid.  Ok, he's 6'4" and 168 lbs., but still a kid.

But back to me.

I stood on the top step of the dugout, smiling as I looked around the stadium and just took it all in.  Not the butterflies I was expecting, frankly.  Just excited!

Suddenly . . . and seemingly out of nowhere . . . I was overcome by emotion.  My eyes filled with tears.  I fought to keep them from spilling over and running down my face on national television.

Geez.  Such a girl.

Thankfully, I pulled it all together, walked out and waved to the 14,000 fans (weren't they there to see me?), gave Dugout the required high-five, and we were off to the races!  But if you're reading this post, expecting a play-by-play, you're going to be disappointed.  It's a blur.

Focus, Cynthia, focus.  I was trying to keep a few points in my head. 

Timing is so important for umpires.  With all that adreneline rushing through my system, I could have tased somebody with my index finger.  The danger with timing that is too fast is that you'll make a call before your mind has a chance to reflect on what you actually saw. You don't want to anticipate what the pitch is going to do or where it's going to land.  Wait for it, wait for it, wait for it.  Then call what you saw.

The Little League strike zone is more generous than the major leagues. We want the kids to swing the bat.  I try to be agressive in the slot so I can see when the pitch hits the corner.  It's my favorite pitch (thanks to many years watching Tom Glavine and Greg Maddux do their magic), and I firmly believe if the pitcher nails that spot, he should be aptly rewarded.  

Follow the ball with my eyes, all the way into the mitt. Wide stance.  Balance.  Oh, yeah, trying to maintain that balance was fun.  The grounds crew does an incredible job.  Wasn't the field beautiful?  But that brick dust at home plate is tricky.  A couple of times I felt my feet sliding in opposite directions and was afraid I was going to do a split.

This is significant because I can't do a split.

I've never been on a field with such talent, and I didn't want either team to lose. Both pitchers were superb, and holy cow, they could bring it.  What fun.

They were painting the corners.  Toying with each batter.  And often - - just for fun - - a fast ball that seemed to hit the mitt yesterday.

And while the collective world will be talking about Grant Holman today (as well it should), I'm here to tell you Chad Lorkowski is no slouch, my friends.  Perhaps you've only seen the headlines about the no-hitter. 

Well, please note Chad Lorkowski threw a ONE-hitter.

We (the batter and I) never knew what was coming . . . or where it was coming from.  Just as we started getting our rhythm down, here came that submarine thing out of nowhere.  His fast ball was - - what's the word I'm look for? - - frightening.

Did you see the play by California's second baseman, Micha Pietila-Wiggs?  The kid who looks like a member of the Pop Group Hanson?  When that WebGem unfolded, I said "Wow."  Out loud.  For the record, umpires are not supposed to say "Wow."

Let me mention the unsung heroes of the game, Patrick Archer (California) and Ryan Duffy (Michigan).  Both of these kids caught a great game, keeping their talented-but-still-young pitchers focused and savagely on point.

In the end, I was so fortunate to have had the best seat in the house for what is likely going to be the best game of the series.

So, I have to ask.  Is this heaven?

The Morning in Pictures

With the morning off, I hustled over to capture some photos to share, starting at the Little League Museum Gift Shop where a new hoodie and coordinating visor would allow me to mingle, unnoticed, among my fans. 

Note: The disguise worked.  No one cared who I was.  Even when I told them.  Twice.

 

 

The evidence is in.  The World leads to the Little League World Series.

A wide variety of foods from which to choose.  Just wondering . . . do I get melted butter with this?

ESPN has created its own little city here.  Broadcasting games live to an international audience while providing views with true insight into the experience from the kids' point of view . . . well, let's just say it is a very coordinated effort, to say the least.  The first and third base umpires are charged with the responsibility of making sure the players and coaches stay in their dugouts during commercial break, and then cue them to take the field as soon as the designated production "Red Cap" gives us the signal. 

These photos give a little perspective.

 

 Gee, when you put it like that, it almost sounds healthy.

 This is a Photo Op that very few families are willing to pass up.  One young boy was resisting getting into place for the picture, and a passer-by said to him,

"Do it.  You'll thank your dad 30 years from now." 

He's right.

Little League's beloved mascot, Dugout.  Is he (or she) a Chipmunk?  A Prairie Dog?  A Gopher?  A Groundhog?  A Beaver with a little bitty tail? 

No one knows for sure . . .

 This is The Lip.  I'll explain in a minute.

Home Plate  is covered as the Grounds Crew works to prepare the field for today's game at Lamade Field.  This will be my spot for the thrill of a lifetime.

We umpires aren't used to all the different ground rules here.  Back home, it's just "If it hit's Roger's truck, that's out of bounds."  At Williamsport, there are camera wells, stairs, padded areas, steps into the dugouts, nets above the rail, nets below the rail - - all areas that may or may not be dead ball areas, depending on where the ball hits and whether it was thrown or batted. 

Got that?

It's really not that complicated, but in the heat of a game when you're not used to those rules and you're already nervous, it can be a little intimidating.  As I've said before, none of use wants to make a mistake.  Every game is important.

Which brings me to THE LIP.

At Lamade, as you may be able to discern from the photo above, there's a pretty steep drop-off behind home plate.  On a passed ball, a catcher has to make a quick decision as he trys to recover the ball: Slide, stumble, or fall.  Most wisely choose to slide, but it's a little more complicated than that.  Once he gets the ball, he now has to throw uphill to his pitcher who is waiting at the plate, ready to put down a tag on a runner who is charging in from 3rd base. If the catcher pulls it off successfully, it's truly a miracle.

His best choice?  Don't allow a passed ball.

For the umpire, it's another new wrinkle in our World Series experience.  The plate umpire has sole responsibililty for the passed ball, so you have to get back there quickly to make sure it's not caught up under the pad (because one of those ground rules would go into effect).  Backpeddle downhill if you dare, but should you choose that option, you're most likely to land on your butt in front of the aforementioned "World." 

Stay tuned.  ESPN at 3:00.