Umps Sting From Owners’ Brush-Back

The picketer, in full uniform, shouted “Scab!” at his replacement and shook his fist at his taillights.

Baseball was back.

The first real spring training game would begin soon. Fans were showing up in something less than droves, but they were showing up in anticipation of major-league baseball, the welcome residue of a labor truce.

No more Fabio Gomez, no more Oil Can Boyd.

The picket lines were supposed to be gone, not that they ever were there. The striking players had never planned to humble themselves in public like this, to be ignored by customers hurrying to see the Cubs of Chicago and the A’s of Oakland resume what had been abandoned last Aug. 12, the last time baseball worked, the last time the guys on this picket line worked.

They played a couple dozen replacement games, and there had been no pickets. The players planned to hire replacement picket-line walkers if it came to that. Major leaguers could afford it.

Not major-league umpires.

“We are innocent victims, like the guy who sells the popcorn and parks the cars,” said Paul Runge, 21 years a National League umpire. “They won’t even talk to us.”

They are the owners, the same owners who had to be dragged into court to get baseball going again, the same owners who had to take the players back.

The owners fired all the umpires last Christmas.

“They call it furloughed,” Runge said. “We can’t work. You tell me the difference.”

Bryan Gorman wore a sign, shaped like an umpire’s chest protector, that insisted “It Still Isn’t Major League Baseball.” Jim Joyce, who should have been shouting “Play ball!” was the one shouting “Scab!” And there was Ed Montague trying to get any fan to take the bright blue leaflet explaining “Baseball Is Unfair.”

“I feel like one of those guys I pass on the street in New York who is always trying to hand me something,” Montague said.

There were 11 of them on the line at the entrance to Municipal Stadium, from both leagues. They wore their umpiring uniforms. They were told not to bother the customers, not to go into the parking lots, and if they wanted to take in the game, to change clothes.

Said Runge. “I think the owners are looking for somebody to beat up, and we’re next.”

And easier. The umpires have no power base. Most umpire disputes have been settled by a sympathetic commissioner. There is no commissioner. Both league presidents are new. So here the umpires were in the only forum left, a public street, asking the public to take the umpires’ side.

That’s like the tax collector asking for spare change.

“How can we get any sympathy coming off the big fiasco with the owners and players?” Runge asked.

Even in the best of time, how, indeed? Abusing umpires is the American way. Anyone who yells “Kill the umpire!” gets a laugh and a pat on the back. Yell “Kill the shortstop!” and you are likely to get a full body search.

“We’re willing to work at last year’s contract,” Runge said. “Just like the players.”

The umpires’ issues make much more sense than the players’. They are asking for better retirement and better medical and better per diem, actual honest labor concerns. Runge was explaining these as the Cubs’ team bus pulled past the picket line.

Heads inside the bus turned to stare. Sammy Sosa flashed a “V” for victory. Mark Grace got off the bus and clenched his fist for the umpires. “Hang in there,” Grace shouted.

And then Sosa and Grace and the rest of the Cubs went back to work.

“May I give you one of these?” asked Larry Poncino, trying to hand a father a leaflet.

The man shook his head and, young son in hand, hurried on toward the ticket window.

“Is Rickey Henderson playing today?” the boy asked.

“If he feels like it,” the dad said.

Yes, baseball was back.