Tulsa Daily World · Tulsa, Oklahoma · 1917

Thousands of otherwise normal human beings will plead for his gore

A 1917 defense of the umpire: seven months a nomad, banned from the players' hotels and trains, booed by thousands, and one bad week from being out of the league. Verily, mankind is patient and forgiving to all but the baseball umpire.

In July 1917 the Tulsa Daily World reprinted a plea on behalf of the most hated man in sport, quoting the Philadelphia writer H. Perry Lewis. His thesis has a King James cadence: prisons reform, employers forgive, the prodigal son still gets the calf, and “verily, mankind is patient and forgiving to all but the baseball umpire.”

The details of the job read like a want ad written by a warden. Seven months a year of nomadic life, never knowing his next move more than four days ahead. Unless he “calls them right” 90 per cent of the time, his next move is out of the league. He cannot tell the players he feels sick and he cannot tell the crowd, but if he slips up once, “thousands of otherwise normal human beings will stand on their feet and plead for his gore.”

The ending earns the headline. He is not supposed to stay at the hotels the ball clubs use or ride their trains, because the league heads frown on fraternizing. “Organized baseball, therefore makes him a baseball outcast, and such he must be to hold his job.” The subhead spells it “Nomadic Existance,” which feels right. Nobody proofreads for the umpire either.