If you're a baseball fan, you no doubt heard about--if you didn't see it yourself--the bad call that cost Tigers' pitcher, Armando Galarraga, a perfect game this evening. My initial reaction was outrage, born of frustration with the rash of abysmal officiating of baseball games in recent years. As the night has worn on, I've given it some additional thought.
I feel badly for Galarraga. Though he will know in his heart that he notched himself a perfect game (plus one out), he won't get the notation on his official record. I felt badly for him right from the split second I realized that safe call had been unjustly made. Even if (big if) MLB awards him a perfect game retroactively, the rush of the moment will be gone. He won't celebrate on the field with his teammates with his heart racing & his face feeling as though the grin will crack it wide open.
But I feel equally bad for the umpire. Jim Joyce has been one of the better umpires in the game, at least in my limited recollection. He isn't a name I curse on a regular basis, of that I am certain. And tonight, he made a horrible call. And my gut knew that the minute he saw the replay, he'd feel physically ill. Despite the baseball purist I tend to be, I can't help wishing Joyce had at least had the option, given the circumstances, to say he'd like to see a replay to back his call, while the game was still live.
A few minutes ago, I saw that he had, in fact, seen the replay once he was off the field. I give him a lot of credit for openly admitting: "I don't know what to do, I cost that kid a perfect game." He went on to say that before seeing the replay, he believed the runner was safe, but that if he had been in the pitcher's shoes, he would have gotten up in his face over that call...yet Galarraga never said a single word. In fact, Galarraga's only reaction was a somewhat disbelieving smile, a shake of his head & getting set to face the next batter.
Jim Joyce feels awful. He's sorry. He made a mistake and he owns it. That's all I can ask of another human being. I truly feel awful for him right now. As bad as for Galarraga. Tomorrow, Galarraga will continue to have the sympathy of many. Tomorrow, Joyce has to step back out on that same field to call the final game of that series, where he will likely spend the game booed, heckled and ridiculed. He is a man, flesh & blood, like every one of us...and no one feels worse than he already does. I can't imagine the helplessness and regret weighing on his chest right now.
What strikes me is the compassion shown by Galarraga, who quietly stated that he feels worse for Jim Joyce than about the outcome of the game, that nobody is perfect, and that he hugged Joyce after the game ended. The humble spirit of a man "wronged," with more concern for the well-being of the man who "wronged" him than for his own personal losses. I am shamed when I think of all the opportunities I have had to react in that manner and most decidedly have *not*.
Jim Joyce, I admire the humility with which you accepted responsibility without excuse or shrugging it off. It takes a big man to own his mistakes, and you are a lesson in how we should act when we make them, which we *all* do, yet not many of us with open emotional acceptance as you have. You apologized with great remorse on camera, and you took Galarraga aside & expressed your deep regret to him personally. You haven't made an enemy of *every* baseball fan...and I suspect I do not stand alone. It's easy for us, watching on our televisions, with instant replay from multiple angles and with slow motion, to say a call was a no-brainer, but the fans don't stand in your shoes, making calls in real time, without the benefits of those tools--and you aren't notorious for making bad calls at an alarming rate. Yours is a job I would not want to have, but thank you for doing your part to make a game I love enjoyable & fair. I hope I can show even half the grace you have in accepting my much smaller, far less scrutinized mistakes on a daily basis.
Armando Galarraga, you may not have a perfect game noted in your stats, but you have shown up a large number of people with the class you exhibited tonight, in the face of deep disappointment. Very few professional athletes have my deep respect anymore, but you have rocketed to the top of my list. You are a stand-up human being, and I tip my cap to you. Please take a seat next to Mike Lowell. I'll not forget your name, but it won't be for what you were denied. It will be for the way you rose above and showed yourself to be a fine young man, when very few others would have, and no one would have judged you for it if you'd reacted differently. The recognition you deserve tonight far exceeds what you accomplished with a baseball and your pitching arm.
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