Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SUNDAY, July 30, 1995 TAG: 9507280024
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: MIKE HEFFNER STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: LENGTH: Long
``Your men in blue this evening: On the bases in his third professional year, Jeff Head; and behind the plate, also in his third professional year, Mike Fichter.''
It's the only time anyone refers to an umpire by name on the field. And the announcement is backward.
Head, who's behind home plate, glances down the first-base line at Fichter and shrugs his shoulders. Fichter returns the shrug with a slight smile, as if to say, ``It figures.''
It's just another night in the anonymous life of a minor-league umpire.
Major League Baseball employs 64 full-time professional umpires. It's an exclusive club, made up of men who average more than 16 years of experience in the big leagues.
But those umpires all had to start in the minors. They gradually worked their way up the ladder until the call came from the majors. Big-league umps have spent anywhere from four to 13 years in the minors.
``Everybody has a goal, you know, to make it to the big leagues,'' Head said. ``You go see a ballgame, and it kind of pumps you up to see the umpires at work, to see the stadiums, to feel the atmosphere.''
Umpiring is a job that prides itself on impartiality, professionalism and a low-key, stoic approach to the work. It's also a fairly invisible profession; most umpires agree that it's best not to stick out or be noticed during a game. That usually means they're doing their job and doing it well.
``Managers and players want things to be done their way,'' Head said. ``They want a pitch; they want an out. But that's not the way it is. We don't care who wins the ballgame, and that's important.''
Mike Fichter grew up in Lansing, Ill., 20 minutes outside of Chicago, and started playing baseball in Little League. He was a backup catcher on his high school team, but by his own admission he was no great player. He started umpiring to pick up spending money.
``It was basically my summer job,'' said Fichter, now 21.
After graduation, he worked at a tropical fish store for a brief time and attended a local community college for a semester. He left home at 18 to become a professional umpire.
``A big plus [of umpiring] is just being out there on the field,'' he said. ``If I wasn't doing this, I'd be at home, probably doing some 9-to-5 job, and every day would be the same-old, same-old thing.''
Jeff Head had dreams of becoming a major-league pitcher while growing up in Alabama, but his dreams went away after elbow surgery his junior year in college.
He got his first taste of umpiring by calling balls and strikes during intrasquad scrimmages at the University of Alabama and UA-Birmingham.
After college, he went into real estate, but he kept his schedule flexible enough to umpire collegiate baseball in the Southeastern Conference for five years.
Like Fichter, Head found conventional life lacking. He wanted to pursue his major-league dreams again, only this time as an umpire.
``I love umpiring as much as playing ball,'' said Head, now 32. ``In fact, I love it more. You're more a part of the game.''
Professional umpires must start by going to school. Three schools begin month-long classes in Florida every January. Tuition runs about $3,000. Mornings are taken up by lectures on rules and interpretations; afternoons are spent on the field in training.
For Fichter, umpiring school was the first time he had left home, and he remembers the adjustments he made in the winter of 1993.
``Some people compare it to a military atmosphere. No talking in line, no doing this or that, and that's almost how it is,'' he said.
``You get used to doing your own stuff. Laundry, you know. ... At home my ma would always be doing that. Sure, it was hard being away from home, but that's just something you have to deal with.''
The most promising graduates from the three schools are sent to an evaluation course run by the Umpire Development Program, which was established by Major League Baseball to oversee the training and development of minor-league umpires. From this select group, 30 to 40 new umpires are given professional assignments every year.
There is no guarantee that the time and tuition will result in an umpiring job. Fichter received an assignment in 1993. Head went to the UDP program in 1991, but did not get a job. He went back through school and the UDP program in 1993 and made the cut.
``I told myself after that first year that if I didn't make it, I wasn't going to go back,'' Head recalled. ``Ultimately, what got me back was that I had to prove to myself that I could do it.''
Head and Fichter have progressed rapidly through the umpiring ranks since '93. Both spent a year in a rookie league and a year in a Single-A league, then joined the Carolina League, which is considered an advanced A League, this spring.
Umpiring minor-league baseball isn't easy. Stadium lighting is often bad, the play is erratic, and the teams' behavior can be worse. Umpires have to cope with constant criticism and questioning and unrelenting pressure to get the call right.
``You always have to stay focused,'' Fichter said. ``Players have errors, but when an umpire has an error, it's in the paper, it's on TV. You'll hear that a player has three errors today. If an umpire has three errors, he's not going to be around long.''
However, both Head and Fichter realize that baseball is a game of failure. The best teams lose at least 60 times a season, the best players fail seven out of 10 times at the plate, and even the best umpires miss an occasional call.
``When you make that call and that guy is just on your a**, I'd love to be able to sit down after the game and and tell him, `Listen, we are human beings out there, we're going to make mistakes, and we'll make mistakes every ballgame,''' Head said. ``We don't mean to. We strive to be perfect, but if you go out there thinking you're going to be perfect, you'll be pretty miserable as an umpire, because there'll be too many things that can knock you down.''
It takes a special type of personality to accept that criticism, boos and angry players, managers, and fans are an inevitable part of umpiring. The truth is, fans love to see a manager or player get into a good rhubarb with an umpire.
``Baseball's not baseball without an occasional argument,'' Fichter said. ``It's not a closed-mouth sport at all.'' And it's important for an umpire to be able to let things go in one ear and out the other.
``As soon as the argument's over, that's when you've got to drop it,'' Fichter said. ``If you don't drop it, that's when it'll come back to haunt you.''
Life on the road can be difficult for minor-league umpires. Staying in a particular city only three or four days at a time, they end up traveling almost 20,000 miles during the season.
And they work late at night. Fichter and Head have plenty of time to kill in the afternoons.
Fichter's usual practice while on the road is to visit a mall or walk around the city's downtown area, maybe check out a movie. ``Umpires are the best movie critics,'' he said. ``They beat Siskel and Ebert any day.''
He also tries to keep up with some of the best friends an umpire can have: fellow umpires.
``One of the things that really gets you through are the guys that you meet,'' he said. ``There's nothing better than a group of umpires going out together on an off day. We're all in the same boat. Umpires are a very close-knit group of guys, almost like a fraternity.''
Head usually works out for a couple of hours each day to stay in shape and keep up with the young guys on the field every night.
On this particular visit to Salem, though, he gets to entertain his wife, Merrianne, who has dropped in for a few days from Alabama.
``She's very positive for me,'' Head said. ``You know, it's tough being away from anybody, it doesn't have to be a wife. A lot of guys aren't able to see their wife or girlfriend for the whole season.''
The July series was the last visit to Salem this year for Head and Fichter. They were scheduled to go to Lynchburg next, and after the Carolina League All-Star break they would have only one day off the rest of the season.
With any luck, they'll never work in Salem again. Though technically the Carolina League is considered a two-year stop for umpires, both Head and Fichter hope to be promoted to Double-A after the season.
Each of the 188 minor-league umpires is observed by UDP for six to 12 games a year, and each is sent written midseason and year-end evaluations. Unlike players, who often jump a league if they're exceptionally talented, umpires are brought along slowly by the UDP until they reach Triple-A, where the major leagues do their own scouting for new umpires.
Minor-league umpires at Head and Fichter's level make $2,400 a month during the season, with a $16 per diem. Thanks to a new contract negotiated in the spring, major-league umpires make a minimum of $75,000 a year, up to $225,000 a year for those with 25 years of service.
Major-league umpires also get three weeks' vacation, and they'll always be able to say, ``I made it to the big leagues.''
The majors are still a dream for Head and Fichter, though a reachable one, given enough time and work.
Fichter will help make ends meet during the off-season by working fall instructional leagues and assisting at American League umpire Jim Evans' umpiring school. Head will make up for lost time with Merrianne and her three children.
But come spring, Fichter and Head will once again strap on their gear and return to the road. They umpire, despite all its drawbacks and problems, for one reason: a passion for the game.
``I flat love baseball,'' Head said, ``I don't think anybody would be umpiring if they didn't love it. I enjoy it and look forward to it every day.''
Mike Heffner is a summer intern at The Roanoke Times and a graduate of James Madison University.
by CNB