It’s More Than a Game : Being an Umpire Is Way of Life for David Gonzalez

When an unhappy parent once dared to question David Gonzalez’s impartiality, the 6-foot-3, 275-pound umpire removed his mask and stared down at the man who had asked the one question that men who call balls and strikes find most offensive.

“Look, I don’t care who’s playing,” Gonzalez growled. “Even if my dad was at the plate, I’d call him out if he took three strikes right down the middle.”

Gonzalez said he cannot count the number of times his calls have been challenged over the years. Still, he has returned to the diamond every summer for nearly three decades to umpire everything from girls’ softball to semi-professional baseball games.

A familiar fixture in Santa Ana youth baseball for the past 27 years, Gonzalez currently serves as umpire-in-chief for the Southwest Little League, which plays its games at Memorial Park. The league has 25 teams and various divisions for players ranging in age from 5 to 18.

Like weekends at the beach, Gonzalez and other umpires are synonymous with summer. The men and women in blue can be found on ball fields throughout Orange County, making calls that no high-priced attorney or even the U.S. Supreme Court can overturn.

Gonzalez’s wife, Margaret, joked that she “doesn’t take him away from the park, as long as he lets me go shopping.” But she attends most of the games that her husband umpires.

“Often, when I’m at a game, people ask me whom I’m there to see play. I tell them I’m there to see the big guy in blue,” she said.

That big guy in blue says, “Usually, I don’t mind when people kid with me or disagree with my calls good-naturedly. That’s all part of the game. I don’t get offended by that. But I do get very offended when a coach or parent tells me that I lost the game for them because of the calls I made.”

That part of the game has not changed over the years, Gonzalez said. There will always be coaches and parents who would rather blame the umpires for a tough loss. But Gonzalez said he has seen some profound changes--both good and bad--in youth baseball.

The biggest change has occurred in the stands, where mothers now join fathers in yelling at umpires. Years ago, he said, a young player’s mother would usually offer a soothing, “Now, honey,” to settle down an irate husband who thought an umpire’s calls were going against their son’s team.

“Hell, today, the wife joins her husband in heaping abuse at the umpire,” said Gonzalez. “I’ve seen it get pretty nasty.”

When that happens, Gonzalez said, he asks the manager “to get his fan to quiet down.” If that fails, Gonzalez said, he will stop the game and not allow it to resume until the offensive parent leaves.

“I’ve had to do that a few times over the years,” he said.

Gonzalez does not deny that on occasion he and other umpires blow some calls. However, he said, “you never tell another umpire that he blew a call. Instead, you talk between innings or after a game and tell him, ‘You know, that call could’ve gone either way.’ He knows what you mean,” said Gonzalez.

Although there are still dedicated managers and coaches, Gonzalez said that many coaches nowadays “will do anything to win.” That includes allowing 8- and 9-year olds in Pee Wee leagues to throw curve balls.

Throwing a curve ball puts a severe strain on a young arm. Youngsters who begin throwing breaking pitches at a young age often end up “throwing out” their arms while they are in their teens.

“It’s ridiculous for an 8-year-old kid to throw a curve ball. A coach who lets a kid that young throw a curve usually does it because he wants to win at any cost. They don’t care that the kid’s arm will probably be gone by the time he’s 14,” said Gonzalez.

The commercialization of professional baseball has also had a profound impact on youth baseball, Gonzalez added. The millions paid to professional ballplayers lure some parents into believing that their sons are bona fide Major League prospects, Gonzalez said, even when the child has only average talent.

“It’s only natural when a parent thinks that his son is good enough to play in the Major Leagues. But the chances of a boy going on to play for the Dodgers or another team are very, very slim,” Gonzalez said.

Much of the false hope that parents generate for their sons can be traced to the aluminum bats that are used in youth baseball today. The bats are lighter, stronger; they help a youngster hit the ball farther. Wooden bats are all but extinct in youth baseball.

“The aluminum bat has made the biggest change over the years. Before, most kids who could hit the ball hard were the bigger kids on a team,” said Gonzalez. “Now, even the smaller kids are smoking the ball. You no longer have to be a big kid to hit home runs.”

Despite the advantages of using an aluminum bat, Gonzalez said that kids today generally do not have the dedication toward baseball of their predecessors 20 or 25 years ago.

“There are too many distractions for kids today, and it’s not always girls. Nowadays, if a kid has something else he wants to do on game day, he just doesn’t show up. Twenty years ago, a boy would have to be sick or dying before he’d miss a game,” Gonzalez said.

After almost three decades of umpiring youth baseball, Gonzalez said he still enjoys being around kids. But he admits that at 48, he finds it more difficult to rebound the next day after calling balls and strikes in a Pee Wee game.

Because the kids are so small and have an even smaller strike zone, Gonzalez has to kneel behind the catcher and still bend over to see the pitches. “Man, I can feel it in my legs the next day when I try to get up,” he said. “It takes a couple of days for the soreness to go away.”

Nevertheless, Gonzalez said he has no plans to retire. He has seven grandchildren who are beginning to play T-ball and softball. In addition, his son, David Jr., has followed in his footsteps and is a Southwest Little League umpire.

Gonzalez’s love for the game remains strong. He said he would not mind being buried in his umpire’s uniform and gear when he dies. But in addition to accommodating his burly frame, the coffin would also have to be wide enough to fit his balloon chest protector. Gonzalez is one of few umpires in the United States who still use the bulky protector, a baseball anachronism that has gone the way of the players’ baggy, flannel uniforms.

“I’ll continue umpiring as long as I can still lean over the catcher. You don’t do this for the money, because there’s no money in it. You’ve got to love working with the kids and the game.”