Chapter 4- Who's Ashbury



The Founding Fathers
Colin, Greg, Bruce, & Dave



The Haight Ashbury Umpires Association was born on August 8, 2002 around a table at the Blue Mingo Grille on Lake Otsego in Cooperstown New York.  The founding fathers; Greg Patrick, Colin Ewing, Dave Hendrickson, and yours truly were drunk at the time. The idea started as a joke, mainly to elicit a reaction from Tony Musco, the navy bluest of navy blues. I thought the good laugh at the table was as far as it would go. Much to our surprise, Greg and Dave arrived at CDP in 2003 with sunburst tie-dyed umpire shirts and a determination to actually wear them in a game. They looked great; just what we had talked about the previous year. Tony couldn’t even bring himself to look at them. He’d pretend to shield his eyes and said he was afraid looking at them would make him physically ill. We all said he was just jealous and wasn’t confident enough in his own manhood to wear a shirt that cool. That really pushed his buttons. Suffice it to say, printing his response to that accusation would probably result in these pages spontaneously combusting.   

The South Jersey Sand Sharks proved to be the perfect unwitting accomplice in the introduction of the tie-dye phenomenon at CDP. Their coach was a great guy. His parent group had a mischievous, if not downright evil, sense of humor.  They kept getting guys to approach him and pretend to “like” him. He knew what was going on and he’d immediately back away in protest. “IT’S NOT TRUE!” he’d bellow while turning around looking for the group of parents who were always nearby and howling in laughter. Greg and Dave were scheduled to work one of their games the next day. I approached the coach and said, “Coach, you know some of the parents on your team told me….” Before I could finish, he smiled, shook his head, looked around, and said “IT’S NOT TRUE!”  I told him that there were a couple of umpires from San Francisco who’d heard about him and were really looking forward to working his game. I told him I didn’t know which game they were going to work but that he’d know who they were as soon as they walked on the field.  Greg and Dave arrived in tie-dyed shirts and played it up perfectly. The coach was really uncomfortable, the parents were wild and took tons of pictures, and the kids loved the shirts.  Dave and Greg explained the joke to the coach and he ended up being a really good sport about all of it.

 The Haight Ashbury Umpires Association name was Dave Hendrickson’s idea and Greg took it a step further by having our logo designed by a graphic artist at Dragonaire Pins. It’s based on the old Robert Crumb Keep on Truckin cartoon. Greg had the figure in the cartoon (an image Crumb never bothered to copyright) put into umpires gear with a tie-dyed shirt, and it’s been the logo for our association ever since. The first year Greg had pins made up he decided to send them to me to drive up rather than bring them on the airplane. They arrived at my home and I couldn’t resist opening the box to have a look. Arching over the top of the figure the words Keep on Umping appear with our initials, HAUA, off to the side. My wife took one look at the pin and said “What’s huh-you-uh mean”. 

 “No, no honey that’s H-A-U-A; it stands for Haight Ashbury Umpires Association.”

She said…ready…I swear… you can’t make this stuff up… “Who’s Ashbury, and why do you hate him?”

I almost peed myself right there in the kitchen.

“You were born in the 60’s honey. You don’t know what Haight Ashbury is?” I asked.

She swore she didn’t and I believe her. Once I explained the whole birth of the counter culture hippie movement, and the famous (or infamous depending on your perspective) San Francisco intersection’s connection to the time period, and tied in the whole tie-dye thing, the light bulb went on. She still didn’t see the humor in it and just thinks we’re all a bunch of juveniles who refuse to act our age, but she’s come to accept, and even embrace our antics.

As each year went by a few more guys would show up with tie-dyes. Greg by then had found our official uniform supplier. A guy by the name of Richard Rogers has a web-based company called Dyed in Vermont.  He tie-dyes anything and everything and does some really interesting stuff. The association started a Yahoo Group and has a growing roster of followers. Even the color schemes of the tie-dyes evolved. The basic original is a sunburst swirl pattern dominated by traditional tie-dye colors, yellow, red, blue, & green. A royal blue and black alternate jersey was added and has become popular among our ranks. A patriotic red white & blue version has also been seen.

The more guys that joined the more fun and popular it became.  The parents and kids really loved the shirts. The coaches were a little more wary.  The most interesting thing that evolved was the competence and seriousness of the guys in the group. There was a palpable feeling that if you were going to umpire in one of these shirts you’d better bring your “A” game with you. There was a real danger of looking like a clown and a potential for disrespecting the game if you went on the field in tie-dye and did a lousy job.

We had our detractors, of course, too. Tony wouldn’t be caught dead wearing one of our shirts. We threatened to photo-shop him into one which had the intended effect of getting a rise out of him. There were others who thought it was fine but just didn’t feel comfortable playing along and then there were those who thought we were all asses. As the number of fields grew from 10 to 22 and the number of teams grew from 48 to 104 per week, the number of umpires grew as well. There are now over 100 umpires that participate each week and week 9 is no exception. Naturally, groups that large will tend to break up into smaller groups that tend to hang together and, unfortunately, cliques form. While there is no “us” versus “them” feeling and while we’ve never been shy about inviting or encouraging outsiders to join in the fun, there are those who simply don’t get it or don’t want to. Some think we are trying to draw attention to ourselves when, as umpires, our goal should be to remain anonymous. Personally, I don’t disagree with the sentiment about remaining anonymous.  I get it. Nobody goes to a baseball game to watch the umpires, and the best compliment we can hope to get at the end of a game is that no one remembers who the we were. This is 12 year baseball though. It’s supposed to be fun…for everyone. If wearing a tie-dye shirt brings a smile to the faces of the players, parents, and coaches, and, in the process, makes me seem a little more human and a little more approachable, then I really don’t see the harm, nor do I think I’m doing it to draw attention to myself.  In truth, wearing the tie-dyes actually forces me to concentrate on my game and not get complacent. The last thing I’d ever want is to give a coach the opportunity to criticize my hustle, knowledge, competence, or judgment in calling his game while wearing a silly looking shirt. The bottom line is this; you can have fun AND do a good job. 

Dave Lawrence & the HAUA in action

There’ve been many memorable tie-dye games over the years. Colin always arranges a 4-man tie-dye crew to work one of the Upper Perk Chiefs (his home team) games. One year a team came in from Hawaii. Everyone wanted to work their games for two reasons. One, they had the best GLMs (good looking moms) and two, after every game the umpires would get some kind of gift (usually a box of chocolate covered macadamia nuts) from the GLMs. I was working a game in tie-dye that pitted Hawaii against a team from Texas. The Hawaiians were small and fast and the Texans were big bruisers. In the top of the first inning Hawaii sent 11 straight batters to the plate, each of whom bunted and reached safely before the first out was recorded. The Texans just couldn’t seem to figure out how to defend the bunts. When the inning ended 7 or 8 runs had scored and we all thought this was going to be one of those blow out games. How wrong we were. The Texans came out swinging and homered four times in their half of the inning putting up 6 or 7 runs of their own.  The game went back and forth like that for all 6 innings; small ball vs. home run derby. The Hawaiians eventually lost 15-13 but you’d never know it from the attitudes of the players, coaches, or parents. At the conclusion, of what turned out to be a great game, the teams, coaches, and parents met spontaneously in the middle of the field for hugs and handshakes. In some small way I believe our wearing tie-dye shirts for that game broke the ice and set the tone for what became one of the most fun and memorable games I’ve been a part of.

There were a few unwritten rules about the use of the tie-dye shirts. We never wore them past Tuesday preliminary round games. We never mixed and matched, meaning that everyone in the crew wore it or no one did. Tie-dyes were a week 9 happening. There are umpires who attend CDP multiple weeks, but those in the HAUA would only wear their tie-dyes during week 9. Greg Patrick is our unofficial association president and ran interference with CDP management. He always provided a level of comfort and assurance to the baseball operations people that the tie-dyes wouldn’t become a problem or a distraction. Unfortunately, a member or two missed the memo, violated the unwritten rules, and became belligerent with management when told not to wear them. The result was a general ban on the wearing of our beloved shirts that started in 2009. They’ve been gone for two week 9s now but haven’t been forgotten. We still wear our HAUA hats and ball bags.  As a group we decided not to push the issue for a few years and there is a plan to approach management with a request for permission to bring them back in 2011. If the answer is no we’ll all accept it and move on, but regardless of the outcome we’ve been brought closer and have lasting memories of the fun we’ve had in creating and bringing something new and different to our umpiring experience at CDP.

Chapter 3 - Blues Wear Blue

Umpires are universally referred to as Blue by coaches, players, and spectators alike. For decades umpire uniforms have largely consisted of blue shirts; from the Elbeco light blue button down to today's navy blue pullover. It's only been over the last few years that a variety of other colors have gained acceptance, but the moniker has stuck. Many umpires think it a derisive term while others consider it a badge of honor.  I’ve never been offended by it but at the same time I much prefer being called by my first name.  I recall an instructor from the Williamsport Little League school by the name of Joe Johnson. Joe HATED being called blue. He told us to let the coaches get away with it the first 2 or 3 times but to always call them by their first name and correct them.

“Hey Blue, where was that pitch?”

“Bill, it was inside and my name’s Joe”

After the third time he told us his routine was to approach the coach between innings and say something like: “Bill, my name is Joe, I’ve worked awfully hard to become a good umpire and I prefer it if you call me by my name. I ain’t a fucking color and I never blew anyone!” and then walk away.  The story always stuck with me and while I’d never say anything like this to a coach I understood his point.  Personally I think we have too much to do on the field to get worked up by the nickname. I really don’t believe anyone means any disrespect by using this common term.  I can’t always remember the coach’s name and if I forget I’ll simply call him coach. I’ve never had a coach get offended by my calling him coach. Blue could be as innocent a nickname as  it's less awkward and more  friendly sounding than calling someone umpire or Mr.umpire or sir (in the gender neutral sense of the word, of course. No disrespect intended to the many very good female umpires I’ve met and worked with at CDP).  

I tell you all this as a prelude to introducing Tony Musco. Tony was and remains the patriarch of CDP umpires. In his eighties now, he still umpires back home in the local Little League. Until a few years ago Tony, along with a small group of Americans regularly traveled to Kutno, Poland to umpire the Eastern European Little League Championships.  In addition to working the tournament Tony and his crew provided training clinics for the less experienced European umpires. Tony and his guys didn't stop there, however. They would collect and donate literally tons of new and used umpire and baseball equipment to needy programs in Europe. Tony earned a nickname in Poland. The story goes that every morning on his way to the field Tony would stop by a local bakery and bring Polish pastry known as Paczki (pronounced potch-key) for the kids. For that, Tony will be forever remembered as "Papa Paczki". Wherever youth baseball umpires gather, Tony Musco is well known and highly regarded. Tony is slowing down now and hasn’t been to CDP the last few years and probably won’t ever come back. One year one of our colleagues received news that his mother had suddenly passed away. Tony organized a collection and within minutes funds were raised for airfare and a ride to the airport was arranged. I don’t know of a single person that didn’t contribute. Afterward Tony said something I’ll never forget. He said: “You know fellas, there’s no better group of guys in the world than Blues.” He meant it too. The way he saw it there’s no more diverse collection of personalities and backgrounds that come together in pursuit of a common interest than amateur umpires. Tony was obviously one of those guys that wore the name blue with pride.  In addition to the pride he felt in being called blue, Tony took the term literally too. You could say Tony was the Henry Ford of umpires. You could wear any color you liked as long it was navy blue. Umpire attire has evolved over the years. You don’t see guys in black suit jackets with white shirts & ties and beanie caps anymore.  Joining traditional navy blue we now have powder blue, pro blue (powder with black trim), red, white, cream, black, and silver. I’ve also seen brown, pink, maroon and sage green. If you were scheduled to work with Tony though you wore navy blue. No questions asked. No quarter given.

“They don’t say ‘Hey Red, where was that pitch’ out there” Tony would bellow. 

It was inconceivable to Tony that anyone would consider or even want to wear anything else. He’d make fun of you if you came out of the bunkhouse in other colors. Guys would intentionally talk about wearing other colors in front of Tony because it would get a rise out of him.

“Hey Greg, we working together at 4:30?”

“Yeah Bruce, I’ve got the dish”

“What colors you want to wear?”

“How bout we go white with blue under?”

“Sounds good to me.”

“You guys sound like a couple of girls talking about your silly white shirts” Tony would chime in. “What’s the matter with you guys? You gonna tell the coaches to call you Casper with those white shirts on?”

Everyone would laugh and Tony would act mad. He wasn’t really mad. I think he loved the attention and knew that we knew he wasn’t serious. He was just giving us the reaction we were looking for and keeping us all entertained in the process.

One year, even though I know he knew my real name, he called me Shane all week. I never knew why but he called me Shane every time he saw me. Colin thought it was funny and would laugh his ass off when Tony would walk around the corner, see me, and say something like “Hey Shane, why don’t you wear a navy blue shirt like a REAL umpire?” I kept asking Colin if he thought Tony really thought my name was Shane, which just made Colin laugh more. 

Thursday night has become the last supper of sorts for our group. After we pick up our CDP rings at closing ceremonies we head back to the bunkhouse for a quick changes of clothes. We have a few hours to kill before the championship game begins and out of that a traditional dinner has evolved for our last night together. It’s always held at the Blue Mingo, an outdoor dockside restaurant right on Lake Otsego.  Unless you know where it is, or go there with someone who does, you’d never find it. For my money it's the best restaurant in the area as well as the best kept secret. The first year I went along, I started getting nervous about where I was being taken.  You pull off the highway onto a winding stone path that leads behind a row of trees and down a hill toward what appear to be abandoned boat warehouses.  It’s dark. Pitch dark. And desolate. And there’s no one anywhere around.  You start thinking about those old gangster movies where they take the unsuspecting gang member out for a ride and he winds up being fitted for concrete galoshes. You park next to one of the old warehouses and start down the stone path, hanging back a bit that first time in case you have to make a run for it. As you go around the corner in between two of the buildings you see a small shack-like structure with a lit hurricane lantern hanging on a hook by the double doors. As you enter you suddenly find yourself inside a cozy gift shop (where my wife’s souvenir for the week is traditionally purchased). Through the rear of the shop is a hostess stand adjoining a friendly little bar that leads to the deck where the restaurant opens up onto the water. The upper tier tables are arranged under rustic awnings. A grand stairway leads down to the lower level tables right on the dock, under the stars, surrounded by twinkling accent lights, with the waves lapping against the bulk head and the rocking boats. The atmosphere is perfect.  Handwritten on chalk boards, the menu is first class, and different every night. The wine list is extensive and excellent. Everything is top notch but at the same time unpretentious. Dave Hendrickson, Greg Patrick, Colin Ewing and I sat down on the lower deck not ten feet from the lake that year. Greg selected a fine wine and ordered the cheese course, as has become his custom. Dave, as you all know by now, ordered a Nectar of the Gods (Coors Light). Colin would have ordered a milkshake, but alas the Mingo doesn't serve them so he went with a Blue Moon instead.  As the drinks flowed and our new friendships grew we talked about the week and the subject of Tony and his obsession with navy shirts became the topic of our conversation. As we laughed over various Tony-isms someone, no one can remember who, probably because we were all hammered by then, (except of course for the designated driver) said “Wouldn’t it be funny if we got tie-dyed umpire shirts and wore them in front of Tony.”I replied “If we got tie-dyed shirts shouldn’t we get tie-dyed hats to go with them?” Greg paused looking as though he was about to say something profound and the rest of the table went silent. He was really giving the idea serious consideration. After a few moments we could see he’d made his decision. “No” he decreed, “that would just be silly.” Maybe it was the alcohol but the whole table exploded in uproarious laughter. We were probably disturbing the other patrons but no one complained. Colin fell over. The conversation continued after we caught our breath.  Dave decided our tie-dye idea needed a name and those who wore them needed an organization.  Thus was born what would become the legendary Haight Ashbury Umpires Association (HAUA).