Coach's Corner
By Andy "Coach" Cotton, Fri., Aug. 20, 1999
I'm not exactly certain at what point Big League umpires decided they were part of the show. It probably has roots in the proliferation of instant replay. They probably liked the way they looked on the giant screens of modern ballparks. Umpires developed their very own hot dog mannerisms for SportsCenter. They became, in their minds anyway, mini-celebrities. Delusions of self-importance set in, fueled by an aggressive union headed by Richie Phillips, whose demeanor and appearance could land him a regular role on The Sopranos. A view that umpires should have a decisive say in how the game is played was allowed to grow and fester and finally ulceratewithin the mindless and rudderless ship that has been the high-level management of Major League Baseball. With no one looking out for the interests of the game, and teams concerned only with their own financial statements, the guards took over the asylum.
The umpires of the two leagues mediated a game that may have looked the same to the casual observer but which, in fact, grew more and more apart. The strike zone, a clearly defined space where umpiring begins, became highly contentious. One league called "high strikes," whatever that was. In the other league, a high strike was a ball, but a "low strike" (which was really a ball) became a strike. As the years passed, these differences grew, along with (since there was no real accountability) laziness and incompetence. Millions of fans were appalled during the showcase post-season games, as pitches literally a foot off the plate were consistently called strikes. Each new season began with promises from management about standardizing the strike zone; the umpires simply ignored them.
The subtle power inherent to the umpire became corrupt as the arbiters of the game's rules became, in the vernacular of the day, proactive. Instead of calming and settling disputes, the umpires became -- more and more -- parties to the arguments. It became commonplace to see umpires eggdisputes on or arbitrarily toss players with little provocation. The supposed peacemakers often had to be restrained from physically going after players. Absolute power had indeed corrupted absolutely.
As is often the case when arrogance goes unchecked, the umpires were blind to or unconcernedwith the changing climate. Over the past few years, baseball management (a long-time oxymoron), was quietly strengthening. Baseball was spoiling for a fight. Not previously known for snappy thinking, the leagues actually wanted to do something sensible: They dreamed of consolidating the umpires of both leagues under the control of one office. They wanted what seems so self-evident: the rules of the game to be administered -- evenly and fairly -- in both leagues.
And then, like finding a big sack of money in their front yard, an overconfident Richie Phillips made baseball's dreams come true by overplaying his dead poker hand. The public didn't care if the umpires quit. With no constituency to build a public case -- what case? -- the umps were led to slaughter.
The circumstances and repercussions of wealthy young American golfers demanding pay to play for their country in the Ryder Cup differ from those of the umpires, but their motivations leave me just as bamboozled.
The front men in this PR disaster -- saying the PGA makes bunkers full of money on this once-sleepy, parochial event, so why should they be deprived -- are Tiger Woods and David Duval. Now, Duval, whose charisma quotient makes Pete Sampras look like Huey Long, is an odd choice to represent his wealthy peers in a public relations debacle only Bill Clinton could spin his way out of, but when Woods speaks, people listen.
Oh, it's tough on the young Americans, all right, if only we'd understand. Two years ago, the American team (wives and girlfriends along for free) was rudely shoved aboard a chartered Concorde for the long, arduous trek to Spain. That all expenses were paid, plus a $5,000 per diem for miscellaneous weekend purchases, did little to ease the burden.
Being an openhearted fella, I do understand, though I do wonder why this seems to be just an American phenomenon? I guess Cadillacs and mansions are cheaper over in Europe, since foreign players appear to weather the sacrifice with fewer hardships.But anyway, the American duffers, caught off guard by the howl from the loutish public, quickly backtracked. And being fine Republicans one and all, they now want to take their share of the money and give it to charity, heedless -- no doubt -- to the tax benefits of a personal charitable contribution.
The players, shortsighted and greedy, are oblivious to the obvious: The popularity of the Ryder Cup benefits golf. That the PGA, their own nonprofit organization, now reaps financial rewards from their weekend of toil, with the profits being poured back into the game, appears beyond the comprehension of Americans. The prevailing attitude is: Damn the patriotism, show me the money!
Blue-collar umpires. Moneyed golf pros. Odd mates indeed on the sinking lifeboat of public opinion. To the misfortune of the umpires, it's not a very democratic boat. The golfers have the life vests. They'll survive. Many overweight umpires will disappear. Few will notice or care.
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