My friend, you and the plate umpire have the closest player-to-umpire relationship of anybody on the field. If I could chat with you without your manager objecting, here are a few things I would say:
- Your positioning behind the plate greatly affects my view of the strike zone. I’m trying to look between you and the batter – we umpires call that gap “the slot.” If the batter is crowding the plate, and then you shift inside, I have a really hard time seeing the pitch go through the strike zone. I can’t call a strike if I don’t see the ball go through the zone. I’m not saying you can’t shift – but you don’t usually have to shift two feet if the plate is only 17 inches wide.
- Umpires hate getting hit by pitches just as much as catchers do. Unlike catchers, however, umpires don’t have gloves. We fully understand that foul balls are going to happen, but we would really like to see you work hard to block those pitches in the dirt so that they don’t bounce up and hit me in a tender area. And there is absolutelynothing that ruins an umpire’s day more than a pitch that comes straight in and hits him without having been touched by either the batter or the catcher. Ouch! Too many of those and we’re going to back way way up, and you’re not going to like the resulting zone if that happens.
- If your coach specifically instructs you that you’re supposed to move your glove to the center of the zone after every pitch you catch, go ahead and do it. I’ll never tell you to disobey your coach. But think about it. I’m tracking the pitch through the strike zone and into your glove. Sometimes, it will be obvious whether the pitch is a ball or a strike, but sometimes it’s borderline. On a borderline pitch, I may want to take a quarter of a second and double check where your glove (with the ball in it) is with respect to the plate or to the batter’s knees, because I really want an excuse to call that pitch a strike. If you yank the glove away, however, I don’t have that opportunity. In fact, by dragging that pitch to the center of the zone, you’re doing two things: (a) You’re telling everyone in the park that you thought the pitch was a ball. (b) You’re telling me that you figure I just fell off a turnip truck, and that I’m going to be fooled by this. Umpires call this “pulling pitches,” and, trust me, it doesn’t work. Do you want to buy a strike or two on those close ones? Stick it! Glove that pitch, and then freeze it there until I make the call.
- Once I’ve called the pitch, throw it back to the pitcher. If I call a ball and you sit there continuing to hold the ball out there, you’re telling the world that you disagree with my call. Well, maybe you do disagree with the call – that’s OK. But publicly showing me up like that is not. Many umpires will treat that as “arguing balls and strikes,” and it can get you an early trip to the showers if you keep it up.
- By the end of the first inning, you’ve probably pretty well figured out where my zone is. After all, you have a better view of it than any other player on the field. Want to help your pitcher? When that ball was just barely low, but might have looked like a strike to the pitcher, go ahead and tell him “bring it up a little.” Now your pitcher knows where he missed. Then there’s that pitch that was just outside, causing your manager to ask where it was. (He’s so far away he can’t tell the difference between just over the corner and just outside.) Go ahead and tell him “it was outside, coach.” Your coach gets what he wants, and you’ve now got an umpire smiling at you.
- If you’re not sure why I called a pitch a ball, ask. I’ll tell you. Don’t abuse the privilege, of course. Even better, instead of asking “where was that pitch?” try “that was low, right?” I’ll tell you. But don’t turn around to face me when you do it. Again, it’s one of those “style things” – if you don’t turn around, you can’t be accused of showing up the umpire.
- Don’t get me wrong – umpires are generally perfectly willing to talk to catchers, particularly between batters or between innings. But remember that the folks in the stands can’t tell what we’re talking about, so we don’t want to give any false impressions.
Remember: you’re the team’s general. You can also be the umpire’s best friend or worst enemy. Which would you rather it be?