My Shameful Secret.

For 17 years, I have been a volunteer little league umpire. It is one of the most rewarding things that I do. In addition to enjoying it, providing a community service, and being part of postive, formative activities for our neighborhood youth, it is extremely fun to do. When I am umpiring, time stands still. For two hours at a time, I can do nothing else, think of nothing else, except the safety and well being of the players on the field, and the rules of the game.

One year, during the first game of the season at the 9/10 year old level, the first fastball of the season sailed up and in, right past the eyes of the poor little blonde haired, blue eyed batter. He threw himself backwards to the ground outside the batters box in a frightened heap. His eyes were as big as saucers. I could literally see the pulse pounding in his neck. In order to give him a few seconds to recover from his "near death" experience, I called time, took off my mask, looked down at him, smiled, and asked, "exciting, isn't it???" All he could do was lay there, look up at me, and nod in affirmative agreement. When I am on my death bed, hopefully many decades from now, I will remember that little boy's courage as he got back into the batters' box, refusing to succumb to the abject fear and adrenalin that were coursing through his young veins.

For 17 years, whenever I would umpire home plate, I would wear my shinguards on the outside of my pants legs. For 17 years, umpire supervisors have asked me why I do that. Little League protocol is for the shin guards to be worn on the inside of the pants legs. For 17 years, I would tell the umpires-in-chief (many of whom I have outlasted) that "it was more comfortable that way." They let me get away with it because I am so very good at what I do as an umpire.

While I have a VERY good reputation for umpiring on the local level, I never requested to umpire at the official little league tournament (basically, the road to Williamsport, Pa.). It is not that I am not good enough. All of the local umpires-in-chief have told me that I am. It is because of a Shameful Secret that I have carried around for 17 years.

You see, for the past 17 baseball seasons, there has not been a pair of heather gray pants in existence that was ever large enough to fit both one of my giant, fat calves and shin guards at the same time. Every season, before the first game, I would try to squeeze my giant tree trunks into a pair of gray baseball slacks wearing my shin guards. And every season, before the first game, I would silently curse myself as the pants leg refused to accommodate my giant calves AND shin guards.

As most of you know, I have lost 70 pounds on MFP. From 478 to 408, since July 26, 2012. Tonight is my first game to umpire in the fall season since I began this journey down to 220 or so. And so it was, on this Friday, November 9, 2012, at 5:15 p.m., that yet again, I approaced a pair of gray umpire slacks wearing my trusty pair of shin guards. I was certain that this time, much like Charlie Brown approaching the football, I would finally have a chance to "kick the ball through the goalposts." This time, Lucy would not pull the ball away from me at the last second and force me to wear my shin guards on the outside of my pant legs.

I slid my legs hopefully into the heather gray slacks. This time something seemed different. Normally, about 3/4 way up my leg, they would fight and resist as I engaged in a life and death wrestling match to fit my fat, shin guard clad legs into my umpire pants. This time, they glided effortless until I buckled and zipped my pants in glorious celebration.

Finally, after 17 years, I could look like every other umpire. Finally, after 17 years, I would be "one of the guys," instead of the freak who wore his shin guards on the outside of his pants. Finally, this is my Shameful Secret no more. Play ball.