Date: Mon, 13 Oct 2008 08:51:52 -0700 (PDT)
From: T H <ref_sport@yahoo.com>
Subject: SUMMER BASEBALL (PART 2 )

Ahhh, baseball.  A great game. An American creation, dating back to the mid
to late 19th century, although its roots may go back to cricket.  I'm going
to check that out sometime.

What's not to enjoy?  Good weather, tho some days are god-awful hot and
muggy.  The crack of the bat.  The smell of leather.  The noise of the
crowd.  The competition and strategy.  And usually lots of Eye Candy.

I'm working another tournament this week.  One in which I'll be paid, of
course.  But also put up at a hotel. With all reasonable expenses
reimbursed (bar tabs not included).  Several of us umpires are from out of
town and have accepted the hospitality.  I was 1 of 4 umpires asked to stay
thru the weekend, which means I will work the championship game on Sunday.

And I am lucky as I get a single room.  Sometimes we share as a
cost-cutting move.  Some umpires who know each other, working often
together, get doubles.  I enjoy my colleagues but that doesn't mean I want
to share a bedroom with them.  Or spend all my time with them.

I check in at the hotel.  There is a hospitality room for tournament staff,
game day workers, the teams and families.  This is tournament central.  I
confirm my arrival with the umpires supervisor and receive my initial
schedule of games.

An umpire has a ton of gear.  Mask, shin guards, chest protector, shoes,
ball bags (for baseballs, lol), and shirts and pants.  Shoe shine stuff,
small towels for cleaning the gear, rule books.  And of course the
jockstrap and protective cup.  Since I'll be here thru the week, I also
have at least a week's worth of everyday wear.  And I remembered my
swimsuit.  Oh, and I brought my laptop.  And a small stash of porn.

                                                                ******

This tournament is for players aged 15 and under.  The teams come from
several states.  It's pool play format and will be played at several
diamonds around the city.  The winners of the pools then will play
double-elimination thru the weekend.  The championship game will be Sunday,
and is one game, unless the losers bracket team beats the winners bracket
team.  This would cause a 2nd championship game.

All these teams have to stay somewhere.  Dirty ol' me will find out where!
And dirty ol' me hopes several teams will be at my hotel.

                                                                     ******

Day 1.  I'm scheduled to work a double header, meaning 2 games in a row.
I'll work plate the 1st game, then rotate and work bases the 2nd.

I arrive in shorts and t-shirt.  I'll put my gear on later.  Unfortunately,
many facilities don't have dressing rooms for players or umpires.  So we
dress for games out of our cars.  Everyone involved in amateur baseball is
accustomed to seeing players and umpires in various stages of undress in
the parking lot.  I've had more than a few conversations with moms and dads
and sisters and brothers while trying to position things within my jock and
cup.  Many times those things within my jock and cup do not want to behave.
Oh well.  For families with boys playing baseball, it would not be the 1st
time these people have seen half naked guys messing with their stuff.

The teams finish dressing.  Damn they looked good before they put their
uniforms on.  Damn they still look good with the uni`s on.  They begin
their routine pre-game warm-ups.  My umpire partner and I visit the
dugouts, introducing ourselves, getting the lineups, and reviewing the
ground rules.  My partner doesn't know it, but I'm also inspecting the
players and THEIR equipment.




As the starting pitcher throws his warm up pitches, I see he is just
drop-dead beautiful.  Sleek, very athletic in form and grace.  Killer eyes
which are now focused only on his catcher's mitt.  He adjusts himself
between his pitches.  And I see his boyish profile front and back.

Eh-hem, now back to baseball.  You better focus on the game, ump.  I see he
has a very good fastball.  He also is working on a curveball that's going
to be fun to see, unless you're the hitter.  I tell the catcher, " you let
me know when he's ready.  Then between later innings, let's try to keep the
warm-ups to a minimum."  I complimented the catcher on the curveball I'm
seeing.  He chuckles and says, "Just wait.  You ain't seen anything yet."

As we get ready for the 1st pitch, as I always do, I welcome the hitters to
the batters box, making sure they are ready.  I brush any dirt off the
plate, and look to the catcher.  "Are you guys ready to play?"  Opening
communications with the teams.  I'm setting the table, you see, for having
a good, well played game.  And opening whatever communications with the
players I can.

And as I always do when I work the plate, I remind the catcher to work
close to the plate and to stay low so that he doesn't block my view of the
pitch.  And as I always do, my hand is gently on his back to remind him I'm
there.

The top of the 1st inning goes quickly.  Three strikeouts, 2 of which are
called 3rd strikes.  Borderline strikes.  I'm startin my groove thing.

I repeat my sermon with the catcher of the other team as they come out to
play defense in the bottom of the 1st.  Their pitcher does not have the
same speed on his fastball or the action in his breaking ball.  He's what
I'll call a grinder.  Nothing flashy but he gets the job done.  But god
above is he cute.

The bottom of the 1st also goes quickly.  One ground ball out, 2
strikeouts.  Called strikes.  More borderline pitches.  Oh yea.  I'm feelin
it.

It usually takes more than 1 inning for hitters to adjust to the pitches
they are seeing.  It almost never takes more than an inning for the teams
to see my strike zone.  I am very consistent.  And I do love those
borderline pitches.  The good teams, the smart teams, see my strike zone
early.  The catchers return to their dugouts and tell coaches where I'm at.
They'll also tell their teammates to be ready to swing the bat.

Sigh, my hand that rests on the catchers' backs is very comfortable.  Very
discreet, mind you, but very active.  It's high in the middle of their
backs on some pitches.  I can almost squeeze ribs on others.  And I do feel
a lot of ass during a game.

I work close enough behind the catcher, to count the soft hairs on his
neck, that part I can see between his helmet and his chest protector.  I
can see the cut of his hair.  I can almost tell you what shampoo he uses.
I can catch his boy scent.  I can smell and savor his perspiration as the
game goes on.  Focus on the game, ump!  Focus on the game!

As expected, the grinder was a grinder.  Nothing fancy, but he threw
strikes.  Got the borderline pitches.

The other pitcher was an artist, mixing his pitches.  Excellent fastball
with the speed you'd expect of a teenager.  At 15, he had location,
location, location.  All in his catcher's glove.  Damn near all strikes.

I have not seen many players of any age that had command of a breaking ball
that would start over your head and fall through the strike zone at the
knees.  A curveball that looks like it would end up 5 five behind a batter,
and then arc in to catch the corner of the plate.  He also got the
borderline pitches.

Both catchers did superb jobs .  They blocked balls in the dirt.  They
managed their pitchers.  They kept me from getting killed by foul balls.
In turn they got a very fair game from me.  And many, many butt feels.  I
had them both undressed so many times.  Surprised I didn't spazz out.


Of course during the game I found out which hotels these teams were staying
at.  One was at my hotel, the gorgeous pitcher with the sweet breaking
ball.  The very hot catcher who busted his butt for me (sigh, lol).
Several of their team mates would be dyno-mite good lookers at poolside.

We got a winner in a very well-played and competitive game.  The teams came
out and went thru the customary post-game hand shake.  Coaches complimented
us umpires.  We complimented them in turn.

The 2nd game went well.  Another well played game with good sportsmanship.
These teams, however sadly were not staying at my hotel.  I would see them
at later games, though.

As we were changing out at the cars, many spectators passed by and
complimented us.  My partner was getting a bit embarrassed as he was
changing clothes.  He was shy.  I most definitely was not.  Me, I'd have
been happy as a pig in a poke to be naked in front of these people.
Hhhmmm, here's a thought...naked baseball.  Naked players, naked umpires.
And you wouldn't be able to tell wood bats from flesh bats.  Wait, better
wear jocks and cups.  But nothing else.

That's definitely not cricket.

                                                                     ******

I stayed to watch the start of the 3rd game of the day.  Just hung out down
the fence drinking a bottled water.  I had on a clean t-shirt and some
shorts sans undies.

Two pats on my butt.  The 1st was from the umpires supervisor who came to
say hello and nice job.  I thanked him and we chatted baseball and umpire
stuff.  He reminded me of tomorrow's schedule.  Different teams, different
diamond.

The 2nd pat on my butt?  The pitcher with the killer breaking ball.  Some
of his team also had stayed to watch the game a little, maybe do some
scouting for chicks, but mostly they wandered around and fed their faces at
the concessions stand.

This kid was major league hot hot hot IN his uniform.  He was now , well
hell, breathtaking in his shorts and wife beater.  Well tanned.  Nice 15yo
physique.  Lightly haired on arms and legs. Very light fuzz unshaved on his
face, and it glittered in the sun.  A face containing piercing eyes and
beautiful lips.  These same lips said, "nice game ump".  At least that's
what I think they said.

After what to me seemed eons, he removed his hand from my backside.  I
immediately missed having his touch there.  We chatted some about the
game,.  Well I think we did.  I cannot remember a word, I swear.  As he
leaned on the fence (thank you lord, he wasn't leaving yet), he raised his
arms enough so that I could see the beginnings of his underarm hair.  One
of his nipples peaked out.  He deliberately was grinding himself into the
fence.

I boned then and there.  I looked down at me.  He looked down at me.  He
noticed my tent alright.  He looked back up at my face and held his gaze
there.  Then he smiled.

"What hotel you at?", he asked.  I told him, "The same as you guys".  He
smiled again.

"Maybe I'll see you there".  Then he walked away.

                                          *****

I promised to continue if you so wished.  Thank you for so many kind notes.

But wait...this day is not over...

Comments and encouragement to: ref_sport@yahoo.com