__Pam Postema has invested ten years of her life, gambling that she can become the first woman to umpire in the major leagues. Shown here this March working a Cactus League contest between the Angels and A’s, she’s just one giant step from accomplishing her goal.
__Pam Posterna, 32, is unruffled by such verbal claptrap. For almost ten seasons in organized baseball she has heard the same jibes over and over, ad nauseam. "The sexist comments by the fans never end," she says. "Sure, it gets old, but by now I can laugh at it."
__She has had it worse. Two of the last three years, Postema has worked winter ball in Colombia and Puerto Rico, where fan abuse is derigueur. She explains: "In Colombia it always seemed like we were on the edge of a riot. There were often armed guards on the field, and quite a few times they had to surround us and escort us out of there. The good part was that I picked up a lot of Spanish swear words....
__"One time I made a call and the fans went wild. Suddenly it felt like somebody had slugged me from behind. I’d gotten nailed in the back with an orange." Even when describing South American horror stories, Postema’s natural optimism wells up: "...I was lucky because usually they throw rocks."
__In North America, where most of her umpiring is done, she doesn’t have to dodge rocks or beer bottles anymore. Occasionally though, creative types in the minor leagues have hurled other inanimate objects her way. Two years ago she made national headlines when she ejected a 14-year-old bat boy for refusing to pick up the chair that Portland manager Lee Elia had heaved onto the field. "The kid didn’t know what to do," she remembers. "I was telling him to pick up the chair, the players were telling him not to. He listened to them so I had to run him."
__She abides no sexist remarks. One time she ejected San Francisco coach Herm Starrette from a spring training game when he told her, "Go back to your needle and thread." Another time, she arrived in El Paso, Texas, for the pre-game conference and found a frying pan on home plate. "If someone had confessed, I would’ve run him," she says.
__Like most good umpires, Postema is two-faced: On the field, her game face is grim and unyielding; off the field, she shows her feminine side, with a gentle voice, an easy smile and a selfeffacing laugh. It’s not false modesty — she simply doesn’t believe she’s done anything special. "I’m certainly no pioneer," she says. "Bernice and Chris opened it up for me. If they hadn’t done the hard part, I doubt I would’ve stayed with it ...."
__In 1972 a Long Island housewife, Bernice Gera, won her long-fought suit against major league baseball, thereby becoming the first woman umpire in modern-day professional baseball. After working the first game of a double-header in the New York-Penn League, she walked to the parking lot, gave a tearful press conference, and quit. Three years later Christine Wren became the first woman to earn an umpiring job on merit. She attended the Bill Kinnamon Umpire School, where she finished in the top 25 percent of her class. After three years in A-ball, she quit, issuing this warning: "As an umpire, I’ve had to deal with partners who didn’t always support me and catchers who intentionally let balls hit me. Someday some poor woman is going to try to follow me and she is going to have a hell of a task."
__Postema, upbeat by nature, disagrees. She doesn’t feel her road through the minor leagues has been much rockier than that of a male umpire. "It’s a tough job for anyone," she says. "Male or female, if they think you blew it, they’re in your face."
__But perhaps they’re in her face a little more often; her ejection rate is invariably higher than her partners’. "Yeah, I tend to get more," she admits, chuckling. "It does get hot out there. My season high was 27 in the Texas League — lots of red-neck fans and sexist players down there. In AAA it’s calmed down — I eject about 12 to 15 a year. But umpires don’t like to talk about their ejections. We just see it as a necessary evil."
__As her ejection rate would indicate, Postema takes an aggressive stand on the field. She is not afraid to approach an unruly dugout and banish any foulmouthed, sexist creeps who might be lurking there. "I have to be more aggressive," she says, "because I’m not going to frighten the ballplayers like some of the larger guys. If you’re smaller, or female, you have to make sure they know who’s boss."
__Pam Postema believes in umpire anonymity, particularly her own. She has no taste for fame and generally resents the attention she receives. "If I’m doing my job," she says, "I just don’t think they should write about me. This is my fourth year in the Pacific Coast League and my tenth in organized baseball, so I’m no longer the freak I once was. Now I’m accepted as a professional and tend to see the press in each city only once a season."
__It’s not that Pam minds talking about umpiring — she just hates talking about herself. "My life isn’t particularly exciting," she says, hoping to end the discussion. When pressed, she will reluctantly recite a few personal details: "Yes, I always liked sports — ever since I discovered softball as a teenager in Willard, Ohio .... Yeah, I was a pretty good player ......
__According to her mother Phyllis, Pam understates her athletic prowess. "She was always playing something," Phyllis recalls. "Basketball, volleyball and of course, softball. Her room was filled with trophies."
__She will still do most anything for exercise. During the off-season, at her home in Phoenix, she runs, bicycles, plays raquetball and lifts weights. During the season, she runs in the mornings, walks through malls or swims in the afternoons. "I don’t want to get in the habit of lying around all day watching soap operas," she says. "A lot of umps do that. Some don’t get up until three in the afternoon. That’s why so many of them are fat. Umpiring is a physical job, so I work to stay in shape. I bet I’m in better shape than a lot of the men — stronger than some too."
__Her family supported her love for athletics. Her older brother was a C’mon-let’s-go-play kind of guy. "He always asked me to go along," she says. "And my parents never said, ‘You can’t do that, you’re a girl,’ so I usually went."
__"We told our children they could do whatever they wanted," says Phyllis, "as long as they could come home and tell us about it. It worked because the kids were very responsible."
__Pam says her upbringing was strict but fair. She describes her mother as someone who was not afraid to dress or act differently. "She taught me that different wasn’t necessarily bad, that I didn’t have to conform."
__Her mother, who is divorced from Pam’s father, still isn’t conforming. She lives in Grayling, Mich., a small town in the north-central part of the state, where she spends most of her time hunting, fishing and chopping wood. She and her husband, who are retired, have a satellite dish, mostly so they can see sporting events. "Last year, I got to see Pam when she was umpiring in Puerto Rico," she effuses. "I’m so proud of her."
__So is her father Phil, a farmer who still lives in Willard, Ohio. He believes Pam has just the right personality for umpiring. "She’s independent, stubborn and determined," he says. "When she was a little girl, I told her, ‘You can do anything you want to as long as you do a good job at it."
__Though Pam’s parents divorced when she was 16, she claims it did nothing to sour her on the institution of marriage. She has never married, but she has been tempted, and "finding the right man" does figure in her future. How far into the future depends on her career. As she points out: "While I’m in baseball I’m not going to get too serious with anyone. I’m not sure the man has been born who could stand being married to a woman with my lifestyle,"
__She is not apologizing — she genuinely likes the life. "Oh, it gets lonely on the road," she says, "just you and your partner, but there are compensations — like not having to get up early. I hate working eight-to five, having weekends off. I believe you see things clearer when you’re not in that rut.... Sometimes after a tough night when I’m feeling sorry for myself, I think about quitting, but then the next night will be good and I think, ‘Hey, I’m right where I want to be.’ "
__Of course, those good nights don’t keep her from remembering what she’s sacrificed for umpiring. "I’ve definitely sacrificed looking my best: I’m a sweaty mess on the field and I have to keep my hair cut too short. Also, I’ve given up the house, the dog and the 2.4 kids... but all for a life I like better. I like it or I wouldn’t still be doing it."
__And for what has she made these sacrifices? She is paid about $2,100 a month to live out of suitcases, to take endless abuse, to be the subject of attention when all she really wants is to be left alone to umpire. "Let me do my job," she wants to cry out. "I don’t have any problems when you let me do my job."
__When Pam applied to umpire school, it didn’t occur to her that it might someday lead to work in professional baseball. "It just sounded like fun," she says. "And like something I could do."
__Her parents were not surprised by her decision. Her mother even takes partial credit for it: "I had read an article on Christine Wren and I sent it to Pam when she was in Florida. I said it sounded like Pam and maybe she should consider umpire school. I always figured she’d wind up working in sports.
__It took more than athletic ability for Postema to rise to the near pinnacle of umpiring. "I also have the ability to learn from my mistakes," she says. "And I’m a truly-fair person. I believe all that crap about being honest and fair. Plus, I’m not afraid of an argument."
__From the beginning, she has had plenty of practice with arguments. She had to argue like an Ivy League debater just to get admitted to the Al Somers Umpire School. "I had never called a strike before," she remembers, "but somehow I was drawn to umpire school. I applied and Al wrote me that there were no facilities at the school for women and that he couldn’t take me. That just made me more determined, so I visited him. He was so amazed that I took the trouble to see him that he didn’t know what to say. Two letters and another visit later, he said yes."
__She finished 17th out of a class of 130, which earned her a job in the Gulf Coast League. "I’d just as soon forget those first two years in rookie ball," she says, shaking her head. "At the time I thought I was just as good as anyone else, but when I look back I realize how little I knew and how far I’ve come."
__Posterna agrees that she’s worked with good people. "I’ve always had partners who supported me on the field," she says. "Maybe we quarreled off the field, but we always worked together ... because if you make your partner look bad, then you look bad."
__In baseball, as in the real world, first impressions stick. If you get a bad rap, it’s difficult to shake it. Postema has such a rap. When she began umpiring, her base work suffered in comparison with her plate work, and despite her efforts in that area, a reputation still haunts her. I wonder what they mean when they say I’m weak on the bases," she muses. "if we’re talking about calling outs and safes, fairs and fouls, I feel I do that fine. I guess sometimes positioning causes me problems."
__In many ways, working the bases is more difficult than working the plate. The plate umpire has far more calls, but the base umpire often has critical calls. On the plate an umpire knows from whence the action usually comes the pitcher — but on the bases it may come from anywhere. Thus the importance of baseball instinct, and critics of Postema believe she lacks that special instinct for the simple reason that she didn’t grow up playing baseball — like the boys.
Postema doesn’t buy it. She’s been around the game and doesn’t believe she suffers from any inherent deficiencies on the field simply because she’s a woman. "Size? I’m 5’8" and 150, but there are some umpires in the major leagues who are smaller than that. Voice? Sure, it’s a little higherpitched, but I’ve worked at getting it lower and I can belt out a strike call pretty loud now. Half the time I bet the fans don’t even know a woman is out there."
__To counter the detractors (like Hall of Fame umpire Jocko Conlan, who chewed out Cutler for hiring "that damn broad"), there are plenty of players and managers who think Postema could make it to the major leagues. Mention her name around those who have seen her work and you hear: "She’s got a good strike zone ... not afraid to give the corners ... if she can handle the minors, she can handle the majors ......
__She also has acquired supporters among her peers. Craig Brittain, Postema’s partner the previous two years, says, "Pam is a solid AAA umpire."
__Pacific Coast League umpire Bill Speck, who has watched Postema in spring training but prior to this season has never worked with her, says: "From what I’ve seen and heard, she does a good job; I have no problem with a woman umpire. Yeah, I’d work with her ... but I’d prefer not to for the simple reason that whatever crew she’s on is bound to have more hassles. It’s no reflection on her ability, just the fact that she’s a woman."
__Postema is currently in her fourth year in the PCL. One has to wonder: Assuming baseball sticks with her, how long will she stick with baseball? After a long pause, she says: "I don’t have a timetable. I’ll stay until I make it to the major leagues, or until I’m sure I won’t make it to the major leagues." Compared with the low minors — particularly in the Texas League — the PCL is a tolerable league in, which to work. The umpires fly from city to city, they stay in their own hotel rooms, and according to Postema: "We have major league cities in the PCL. Honolulu is the best, of course, but I like Vancouver for its beauty, Las Vegas for its gambling ......
__Yes, the lady is a gambler. She has wagered ten years of her life on an extraordinary long shot. Time will tell if she’ll be able to collect on a winning major league ticket.

Against All Odds

(Steve Boga is a former minor league umpire whose umpire school its were profiled in Referee’s 3/86 issue, "Steve Boga and the Roman Tribunal." Boga is now a freelance writer who lives in Sebastopol, Calif.)