A Profanity-Laced Rant Regarding Minor League Umpire Scott Barry

The Phillies have class.  They may have murderer beards, and tempers, and clear evidence that they are correct, but they are not going to stand in the locker room and after a[nother] game ruined by shit-piss umpiring and insult the blues.  They are going to take the blame themselves for not being the offensive dynamos they are supposed to be.  They are going to criticize their own inability to put the bat on the ball when it mattered.  They are going to back away slowly and hope tomorrow goes their way.  They are not going to grab a reporter’s microphone and spout off against the immature, unprofessional, mentally slow “umpiring” that went on in Philadelphia tonight.

So I guess it’s up to me.

Astros 4, Phillies 2

Triple-A baseball is where players learn to perfect their game.  Its where guys who have been struggling for years to make the majors find themselves one step from the undying fantasies of their youth.  Its where they feel like they can reach out and touch celebrity, as names come and go off the 40-man roster and pro players pop in for rehab assignments.  Its where the learning process ends and some players make it that one last push into professional baseball… and others peak too early, crashing back to earth in a mess of falling numbers and saddened relatives.

The same goes for umpires.

There’s a reason you’re a minor league umpire.  You haven’t shown the intelligence, precision, or professionalism to hit the major league level; just like any player unable to fulfill his duties with the most outstanding of efforts, you aren’t climbing into The Show by being a half-ass, childlike, shit-eating, fist-enthusiast.

Unless, of course, you are Scott Barry.  Then everything is working out just fine for you.  Except that tonight, a 6′ 4″, 255 lbs. man was trying to slaughter you.  That was pretty bad.

So tonight, as Scott Barry’s formerly minor league umpiring pants quickly filled with feces, he may have had time to reflect.  Maybe he shouldn’t have openly mocked Howard by putting his hands on his hips–as Howard had just done in frustration with himself–and stared him down; maybe he shouldn’t have claimed Howard swung without even really looking and using his personal emotions to make the call; maybe he shouldn’t have thrown Howard immediately knowing full well the Phillies would be out of position players.

It’s not like Howard is a walking crime scene with a shiv in his sock, ready to start trouble or assault somebody at a seconds notice.  In fact, tonight was only the second time he’s been ejected in his six year career.

So to be tossed and leave the Phils so short of position players that Roy Oswalt had to come in to play left because Raul Ibanez was moved to first base is a travesty in and of itself.  The reason behind the ejection–because Scott Barry was at first engaging in a pissing contest with one of the players and wanted to let everyone know how big his balls were, and then secondly let everyone know how small his balls were by not being able to fight his own battle against the guy he’d just wrung up moments prior–was equally ridiculous.

If ever there was a time for human umpires to be under the microscope, it is now.  And not because it was a close play, or because it may have cost the Phillies or the game, or because it cost them anything unrecoverable.

It is because this umpire–this career minor league umpire–named Scott Barry was very clearly unable to contain his own emotions toward one of the players and called him out because of it.  This same “junior high girl” style of officiating a sporting event was what made him immediately eject Howard as well.

So, we can cheer J-Roll’s game-tying dinger, Cole’s great pitching, RoyO’s catch in left, and Raul’s diving tag at first.  But there is a true level of disgust surfacing from tonight’s contest that only Scott Barry can deny.

So while it is usually possible to keep these pages free of incoherent, incredibly biased insults (EDITOR’S NOTE: What?!) tonight, we close with a personal message to MINOR LEAGUE UMPIRE Scott Barry (EDITOR’S NOTE: This is why we aren’t one of those “respectable” Phillies blogs):

Are you proud of yourself?  Are you one of these guys who goes home at night after another day of doing your job terribly and winks at your own reflection in the mirror?  I sure hope not.  Because there are umpires out there who know how to call a game; who know how to deal with an upset or enraged player, who can maintain the truly indifferent mindset an umpire is supposed to have.  But your shit-stained career is nothing but a submission of further evidence that umpires need to be replaced by robots wearing tiny hats.

You are pathetic, babyish, and insulting to your own profession, Scott Barry.

Some players hit their climax in the minors and never see the light of day.  For every Rookie of the Year and “Home run in his first major league at bat!”, there are a hundred guys who never even got a peak in the window.

Scott.  Enjoy your peak.  Because the store’s closing, shit head.

And if you don’t believe, me, ask these much more popular Phillies blogs:

Umpires Are to be Seen and Not Heard (Crashburn Alley)

The Circumstances Which Led to Roy Oswalt Playing Left Field (The Fightins)

Not Exactly Your Standard 16 Inning Affair (The 700 Level)

And you know Big Sharkey Show will have some even more rage-ier response than me tomorrow

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