Little League Ballplayers Are Still a Big Hit With Veteran Umpires

Tony Vasquez remembers when an overzealous fan threatened to bring a gun to the championship Little League game between Oxnard and Goleta Valley 10 years ago.

Although the fan ultimately abandoned his plan, Vasquez said he has never forgotten the incident.

“You have to keep reminding parents that the game is for the kids,” he said recently at his Santa Paula home.

Santa Paula Little League umpires Vasquez, Tony Pineda, Rafael Reyes and Richard Ruiz share 122 years of experience behind home plate. Like most Little League umpires, they labor without pay and with little gratitude.

But their love for the game and the children keeps them coming back season after season, they say.

“For us, it’s in the blood,” said Pineda, an umpire since the league began 36 years ago. “It takes a special kind of breed.”

Little League season began last week in communities countywide for youngsters ages 6 to 13. For the next three months, about 300 umpires will face countless taunts from belligerent fans and ballplayers with only a rule book and their judgment to guide them.

But these four Little League umpires know what to expect.

“I never turn my head,” said Vasquez, holding up both hands to show how he blocks out unflattering remarks. “It goes in one ear and out the other. You have to be a real hard-shell.”

Ruiz, an umpire for 22 years, said he never wavers from his calls.

“You have to call it the way you see it,” said Ruiz, whose passion for groundskeeping has led city officials to name a park after him.

But not even a face mask, a breastplate and safety-toe shoes can protect umpires from ego-eroding comments, said the four, who have watched rookie umpires leave the field in disgust.

“I’ve seen umpires take off their gear at home plate and walk off the field,” said Ruiz, who usually watches a season lineup of 30 umpires dwindle to about 10. “They say it’s not worth it. You get the heckling, heckling. You can’t take it anymore.”

Criticism even follows umpires off the field.

“They will cuss at you and call you every name in the book,” said Vasquez, who has received phone calls at midnight from angry parents.

Once umpires have fled, persuading them to return is tough, they said.

“They come up with excuses to avoid umpiring,” Reyes said. “But they still watch from the sidelines.”

Although the days are long and the pay nonexistent, the umpires said the demanding job is worthwhile.

“Once in a while, they feel sorry for you and they’ll buy you a hamburger and Coke,” Ruiz said.

For Reyes, it’s the glow that he gets from umpiring the children of former Little League players.

“It’s like a family,” he said.

They all agree that children are the heart of Little League.

“To us, every kid playing Little League is our kid,” Ruiz said.

At times, the umpires said, they end up baby-sitting Santa Paula’s nearly 400 Little League players. He estimates that only 10% of parents actively participate in the sport.

The children have also become tougher, they said.

“They’re more aggressive, more willing to talk back to you,” said Pineda, who believes that youngsters are emulating the sports stars that they see on television.

But parents who never got the opportunity to play Little League are to blame, Vasquez said.

“They push them so hard, they’re not going to do it. If you let the kid go by himself without pushing him, he’ll become a good ballplayer.”

In the meantime, the umpires said they’re ready for a season sure to be filled with jeers, foul balls and strikeouts.

“If it wasn’t for Little League, I’d be sitting on a park bench getting old,” said Ruiz, who is 61. “At least I’m doing something.”