"It's a LONG day at the office for everyone...so I'm selfish. I guess us umpires already aren't selfish enough, now is a time as good as any. But I'm not like a lazy cop who considers a small theft "petty crime" because "I pulled a double shift." I want sleep. Whoever gets closest to home next wins."
If you saw it live, saw the replay, or saw a photograph, you saw something so obvious that it almost destroyed your mind that it could be called that way. Hell...even the home plate umpire at the infamous 2002 all-star game called the last pitch a strike...he could have let Bud get another at-bat. But those were different times.
The great Cosell once called baseball (and this was in the mid-70s, mind you) "a game belonging to William of Orange." Aside from the comedic touch, he also said baseball was "a game of the nineteenth century." Which it is, and one that is dragged kicking and screaming to the present and the future. Since there was no television in 1897, thus no instant replay, we can't have it now. So instead of saving someone face....instead of making sure correct calls fill the game (allowing the players performance to make the difference) we watch horribly bizarre call after horribly bizarre call.
It's pointless to argue close calls. There's enough of those in life each day. "That fucking mom in the mini-van isn't even on the fucking road!" It is the calls that are so clear, and then you see someone who is supposed to be a professional just shit all over home plate. And I don't care about the Pirates or Braves. You probably don't, either. But you DO assume that an important game involving a team that interests you will include competent umpiring, regardless of the length or nature of the game. But don't tell that to the umpires - it's not their job to get it right all the time. They don't have to! Don't tell Bud, either. It's hard enough trying to decide what tie you'll wear each day.
Shit...don't say "tie" to Bud Selig.
