So baseball's braintrust watches its umpires post a lower batting average during the postseason than the pre-Kate-Hudson A-Rod, and comes to this conclusion:
``Ah, everything's fine."
Everything is not fine.
The networks cover every angle in remarkable detail, in HD clarity. The better the broadcasts get, the more often we see the umpires fail.
One fine writer, Joe Posnanski, expressed sympathy for umpires, revealing that he wanted to be an umpire when he was young.
Here's my problem with sympathizing with umpires, and with failing to correct their many mistakes: The kind of people who like the idea of being big-shot, big-league umpires are the kind of people who need checks and balances.
To me, too many umpires are like parking-lot attendants: They recognize that they are in the only position of power they will ever hold, and they want to make the most of their moment in authority.
What is the most common personality profile of a big-league ump? Desperate to get into, or stay in, baseball. Desperate to be a part of what happens on the field, instead of a silent arbiter of the action. Desperate to show off, with flashy strike calls and emotional out calls. Eager to argue, to reassert their power. Sensitive _ and here is where I am sympathetic _ because every game, for them, is played in hostile territory.