I’m an avid baseball fan who’s watched thousands of innings through the past three decades and I must admit that I’m guilty of something: I tend to only notice umpires when they make mistakes. Of course, that’s not fair. In fact, it makes me feel a little foul. Still, the reality remains that I hardly ever appreciate when an umpire gets a close call correct, although I have chucked a few remote controls (or, in some cases, cans of Pringles) across my living room because an ump did something that raised my ire—like ring up Curtis Granderson for a check swing that only went one quarter of the way across home plate.

I’ve seen similar things in my experience covering high school contests. I’m sure coaches and parents say things like, “Good call, blue!” It’s just that those sentiments don’t seem to be expressed quite as often—or as loudly—as, “You blew it, blue!” or, “Get new glasses!”

“The only reason you won’t get yelled at is if everything goes perfect,” said 30-year-old umpire TJ Dugay. “It’s a rare job when you can be right 99 percent of the time and nobody cares. They want you to be perfect.”

When umpires make accurate calls, people barely say boo. When they get something wrong, people boo. Like the players, umps have to be physically and mentally prepared to work three hours in the heat and deal with the pressure of doing their job correctly, yet they certainly hear more jeers than cheers compared to the athletes. That makes sense considering fans go to sporting events to root for the home team—not the officials. However, umpires certainly play a big part in the game whether things go smoothly or if there’s controversy. In this story, we’ll look at how umps along the shoreline put themselves in position to ensure things go smoothly, while examining how they handle those scenarios where there’s potential for a brouhaha.

Let’s Get Physical

Tom Schultz played baseball for Hand and then had two stints as the Tigers’ head coach, as well as a six-season tenure at Valley Regional. When his days in the dugout were done, Schultz wanted to remain part of the action, while enjoying the positive aspects of good play and competition, and so he joined the Greater New Haven Baseball Umpires Association (GNHBUA). Schultz attended 14 weeks’ worth of classes at Albertus Magnus, passed a rules test and mechanics test that requires one to know where to go based on where the ball is hit, and then went through the training process that includes watching how experienced umpires work a game. Now, Schultz spends many sunny days umpiring baseball games of varying age levels.

As someone who competed on the diamond, Schultz knows the level of physical fitness that’s required for a ballplayer to perform at a premium level. Schultz feels that umpires don’t necessarily need to set the world record in the 100-meter dash, but he does believe they must maintain some semblance of shape to get in the right spot to make those split-second decisions.

“I don’t think people realize how physical it is. You really have to move around to get where you need to be to properly officiate games. I find that enjoyable from a competitive aspect—not in terms of who wins the game, but just doing the best I can for my role within the game,” said Schultz, a Deep River resident. “A baseball umpire can do it without being tremendously physically fit, but you need a certain level of fitness, so you’re never in a position where the coach can say you weren’t in position.”

Under Pressure

In terms of how he mentally preps, Schultz goes into “a total baseball mentality” about an hour before first pitch and thinks about the various scenarios he may face depending on whether he’s behind the plate or patrolling the bases. Then when it’s time to play ball, the mental challenges really get revved up for the umps. There’s plenty of pressure. After all, one close, but incorrect call can prove the difference between a pitcher giving up five subsequent runs or relaxing in the dugout with some grape Big League Chew.

Schultz says it does no good to dwell on a bad call during a game because it increases the chances of losing focus and blowing a subsequent play. Instead, he evaluates his performance afterwards. Guilford’s Dan Junior, who’s in his 18th season in the GNHBUA, subscribes to the same philosophy.

“There’s pressure in every game for me to be perfect and, when I make a mistake, it bothers me, but I try to forget about it. It’s hard, but I work extra hard to refocus and not get that call stuck in my head because it will deter me for the rest of the game and that’s not acceptable,” Junior said. “We’re taught to let it go and there are no makeup calls. If I screw up a call, I don’t make it up to that team with a makeup call just because they let me hear about it.”

Keep it Cool

Well, it’s one thing for an umpire to forget about a bad call, but try telling a coach whose team was on the wrong end of one to drop it. Good luck. Even though it’s known as a friendly pastime, baseball is a sport rife with tension that only gets amplified each time a batter fouls off yet another full count offering during a 10-pitch at-bat. There’s a whirlwind of emotions and sometimes unpleasant ones are expressed if pitch No. 11 is called for strike three just above the letters or below the knees. That may prompt the coach to have a little chat with the umpire and, if the situation isn’t quickly resolved, it often escalates into an argument which culminates with the skipper getting the heave-ho.

One of the umpire’s responsibilities is to prevent the kettle from reaching a boil and Branford’s Stan Konesky, Jr., details how he tries to defuse the drama.

“It’s always professional and never yelling or condescending to them. My mentor explained to me that you listen and don’t make any body or facial expressions. You learn to be attentive, but in control and don’t let someone disrespect you in front of the crowd,” said Konesky, Jr., who’s been an umpire since 1967. “An umpire has to be a very good communicator. I’ll let a coach talk and then I’ll ask him, ‘Are you through?” and, if they say no, I’ll let them keep venting. But if he goes further and keeps trying to one-up me by getting the last word, I have the authority to eject him. And if he says the magic word, he’s gone.”

Ah yes, the infamous magic word. It’s not peanuts or Cracker Jack, but if you say it, you’ll get a one-way ticket to the parking lot and definitely won’t come back. Dugay has a pretty high tolerance for what coaches can say when it comes to criticizing his calls, but draws the line when the comments insult him directly. In terms of how he deals with players, it’s a whole different ballgame.

“You can say a call is terrible and I won’t toss you, but if you tell me that I’m terrible, then you’re going home. That’s the difference. Once you get personal and physically or verbally come at me, you’ll get ejected. But if you’re just frustrated about the call, you can pretty much say what you want,” said Dugay, a North Branford resident who does mostly high school and Legion games. “Players get tossed more easily than coaches. They can ask where a pitch was or tell me they think I didn’t get it, but they won’t get away with arguing. They’re not allowed to. If they have a problem, their coach can come out and argue for them.”

Sometimes parents get a little chirpy and take umbrage with an umpire’s call. Veteran ump Ken Demchak, who works games from the Little League through high school levels, employs a simple approach to make sure those situations don’t get out of hand.

“I ignore parents completely and don’t even get involved because you create a problem where it gets nasty and takes away from the game. If you get one parent mad, you get them all mad and they come back at you with jabs,” said Demchak, a Branford native and Clinton resident. “You want to keep the game going and have it move along at a nice, even pace.”

What it’s All About

Demchak adds that “the kids come first” and he enjoys giving them tips that aid their progression on the field. North Haven Max Sinoway Little League umpire Paul Murray says that helping the youngsters, while watching them have fun on the diamond, is what keeps him coming back.

“I do it to give back to the community and the kids. That’s what it’s all about,” says Murray, 59. “Don’t let any ump fool you. If an ump says they’re out there for any reason other than the kids, they’re lying. You have to be out there for the kids or you shouldn’t be out there.”

At the end of the day, the most important thing is that the players learn about the sport, enjoy themselves, and try their hardest to guide their team to a victory—whether it’s their first year playing tee-ball or their senior season in high school. And for all the games where umpires have to deal with the unexpected snafus and disagreements, there are still plenty of contests in which everything unfolds just right. The players give their all, the umps make the right calls, and the game flows so seamlessly that everyone gets home on time to watch more even baseball on TV—hopefully, without throwing anything at it.

“Your best game is the game you go unnoticed and nothing controversial happens,” says North Haven resident Anthony DeSimone. “At the end of the game, all the coaches and players want to shake your hand and, as you’re walking to the parking lot, you hear, “Good job, blue!” They appreciate your knowledge and hustle of the game. That’s the most rewarding part.”