The Umpire was Blind! by Jonathan Weeks

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FIVE THINGS YOU WOULD NEVER GUESS ABOUT ME

--In spite of my lifelong love of sports, I wasn’t really a great athlete. I played organized baseball until I was thirteen. Once the pitchers started throwing curveballs, I couldn’t get a hit to save my life. I was too short for basketball, too skinny for football and too clumsy on skates to play hockey. I guess that’s why I started writing about sports instead.

--Though I began submitting my work to publishers at the age of seventeen, I didn’t get a single word published (outside of school newspapers) until I was in my mid-forties. I tried my hand at writing screenplays, short stories, novels, and poetry. I even wrote a couple of children’s books that never saw the light of day. In 2011, a screenplay I wrote with a friend made it into the semi-finals of a contest sponsored by Amazon Studios. That’s as far as we got.

--Anyone who knows me is well aware of my passion for baseball. I have an extensive collection of trading cards and memorabilia dating back to the 1950s. I’ve published several books on the topic. But the funny thing is—my favorite sport is actually hockey. I finally wrote a book about my favorite team—the Boston Bruins. It’s being released next year through the McFarland Publishing.

--I’ve been churning out biographies and an occasional novel for most of my adult life, but I get writer’s block constantly. It’s awful. There are times when I sit down to write and mysteriously can’t compose two sentences that fit well together. I’ve found that the best thing to do when this happens is to walk away. Once I’ve focused my attention on TV or a good book, my ability to write usually returns in time. Playing the guitar also helps for some odd reason.

--Though writing is one of the things that define my personality, I have never been able to make a living at it. I decided long ago that I wanted to help others less fortunate than myself, so I began working as a mental health counselor. I’ve been at that job for close to twenty five years now.

In the words of former American League umpire Nestor Chylak, umpires are expected to “be perfect on the first day of the season and then get better every day.” Forced to deal with sullen managers and explosive players, they often take the blame for the failures of both. But let’s face it—umpires are only human.

For well over a century, the fortunes of Major League teams—and the fabric of baseball history itself—have been dramatically affected by the flawed decisions of officials. While the use of video replay in recent decades has reduced the number of bitter disputes, many situations remain exempt from review and are subject to swirling controversy. In the heat of the moment mistakes are often made, sometimes with monumental consequences.

Read an Excerpt

JOE DiMAGGIO’S 56-GAME HITTING STREAK

…“The Streak” was in serious jeopardy on multiple occasions. In fact, DiMaggio extended it during his final plate appearance nearly a dozen times. But never was he more in danger of losing it than on June 10 at Chicago’s Comiskey Park. After a pair of groundouts and an infield pop-up, the Yankee icon came to bat in the seventh inning against right-hander Johnny Rigney, who was one of Chicago’s top hurlers in those days. DiMaggio smashed a sizzling grounder to third, where the sure-handed Dario Lodigiani was stationed. “Lodi” could only block it with his body, but he recovered in time to nail the Yankee centerfielder at first by a quarter of a step. Fortunately for DiMaggio, first base umpire Steve Basil saw things differently, making a “safe” call on the play.

Basil, who had turned to umpiring after his playing career stalled out at the Class-D level, was in his sixth year of major league service. Though generally even-tempered, he was not afraid to assert his authority when his calls were held in question. Never was this more apparent than in June of 1938, when he tossed three members of the St. Louis Browns out of a game for arguing balls and strikes.

According to AL arbiter Joe Rue, Basil was a bit of a tattletale who was constantly trying to curry favor with MLB officials. In particular, he had established intimate relationships with umpire supervisor Tommy Connolly and AL president William Harridge. “Basil was always playing up to Connolly,” Rue asserted bitterly. “And he’d run to Connolly and Harridge with everything.”

There was no need to seek the counsel of league officials on the date in question. In fact, the White Sox hardly protested at all as DiMaggio’s streak was extended to twenty-five games. Basil’s call proved to be of monumental importance when Joe D. grounded into a double play in his final at-bat of the day. Had Basil made the correct decision, “The Streak” would have been divided into two roughly equal halves—impressive, for sure, but not exactly the stuff that legends are made of.

The events of July 17, 1941, have attained an almost mythical quality. DiMaggio had pushed his streak to fifty-six games and was on his way to Cleveland’s Municipal Stadium in a cab when the driver, recognizing the iconic outfielder and his teammate Lefty Gomez, said ominously: “I got a feeling if you don’t get a hit in your first at-bat today, they’re going to stop you.” (Several versions of the quote exist) Flabbergasted, Gomez snapped: “Who the hell are you? What’re you trying to do—jinx him?”

…Gomez might have been on to something.

The jinx appeared in the form of Indians third baseman Ken Keltner, who made a pair of spectacular stops to rob DiMaggio. “The Streak” ended that day and “Joltin’ Joe” hit safely in his next 16 games. Many years after the fact, he claimed to have had an encounter with the mysterious Cleveland cab driver. “Now this is thirty years later,” DiMaggio asserted. “He apologized and was serious. I felt awful. He might have been spending his whole life thinking he had jinxed me, but I told him he hadn’t. My number was up.”

About the Author:

Weeks spent most of his life in the Capital District region of New York State. He earned a degree in psychology from SUNY Albany. In 2004, he migrated to Malone, NY. He continues to gripe about the frigid winter temperatures to the present day. He has published several books on the topic of baseball. He would have loved to play professionally, but lacked the talent. He still can't hit a curve ball or lay off the high heat. In the winter months, he moonlights as a hockey fan.

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