Can I Get Your Autograph

My parents must have shaken their heads at the sight. When the neighborhood kids got together to play baseball, you would never see me with a bat in my hands. No! I was behind the plate, barking out balls and strikes and calling people out. We’d have pitching contests just to see who could call the best strikes. On at least one occasion, I sent one of the neighbor kids home in tears for calling him out at first base — the tree across the street.

So it is fitting that I eventually put my passion into practice, albeit on a basketball court instead of a baseball diamond. Growing up and watching umpires and officials work always amazed me. I knew, even from a young age, that being an official was something I wanted.

As a kid, I garnered a lot of my inspiration watching the officials on the court and the men in blue practice their craft on TV and at games in person. One of my favorites was always the colorful Bruce Froemming, who retired at the end of the 2007 season.

I remember a summer day in June 1994 in San Francisco. With the winds what they always were at Candlestick Point, the district that the baseball stadium is a part of, it no doubt felt more like the middle of December. The Giants were playing the Colorado Rockies. I don’t remember too much about the game, other than the fact that the Giants won. What I remember best was what happened after the game, when I had the very pleasant opportunity to meet one of my heroes.

It was common practice for us to wait after the games for players and coaches to stop and sign autographs. I would wave frantically at their passing cars, hoping one would have sympathy for me and stop. A couple years before, I had managed to flag down MLB umpires Frank Pulli, Ed Rapuano and Greg Bonin on their way out of the ballpark.

They were driving back to their hotel together when I stopped them. They passed a baseball around the car for signatures and were all very friendly — moreso than most players I ever met — and probably somewhat surprised that a young fan was so eager to meet them.

My lone partner for this current postgame adventure was a young boy of about eight, armed with his glove and a Sharpie. Following my guide, we flagged down a passing vehicle. It was driven by none other than Froemming.

In my excitement, I handed him the first thing I could come up with for him to sign — my ticket stub from the game. My young friend proceeded to have him sign his glove and congratulated Froemming on a great Giants’ victory (thinking he had just met then Giants’ pitching coach, Dick Pole). Bruce chuckled a bit, looked over at me and winked, handed the young man back his glove and drove off.

My mom looked at us both and could tell that I was ecstatic — even more than I would have been had one of the players stopped. She laughed and asked my friend if he knew who he had just met. Much to his dismay, my mom told him it was the umpire.

He suddenly became confused, a little dejected, and left me to hunt autographs on my own.

Froemming’s autograph sat on my desk at home for the longest time, displayed among my favorites. I often wondered what the young man did with his glove … or what story he told about it!

Sarah Ely is from Walnut Creek, Calif., and has been officiating basketball for seven years at the high school and junior college levels.