What leaders can learn from decisive umpires
“You argue with the umpire because there is nothing else you can do about it.”
Leo Durocher, baseball player/manager/humorist
In my youth, I enjoyed coaching kids’ sports and shaping the minds and attitudes of young athletes. Baseball is one of those fabulous teacher’s aids. As part of the recreation department experience, I also had to umpire and referee games. That was a far more difficult duty, and not only because of the avid (or rabid) parents in the stands.
My boss told me the umpire is always right, even if he has made a dead-wrong call. There’s no going back on his decision. He said, “You need to develop a no-tolerance attitude. There’s no discussing it.” There was no second-guessing the umpire or ref with a modern application like instant-replay video. It was not an option then. So, where a coach can emotionally support his players and team, an umpire cannot favor anyone. The ump has to be unbiased and must learn to ignore his preferences.
Yet umpires are only human, and when a Little League player steps up to bat and hasn’t had a hit all season, and he’s trying so hard to impress his parents, and the ball is just a hair within the strike zone, the umpire is tempted to call that a “ball” now and then. And should you lean that way, the audience knows when you miss a borderline call, so they jump all over you. In short, it’s an emotional hot mix from every angle. Ignoring that is harder than one may think, but it’s great “training.”
Shifting The Blame
I am convinced this is why the NFL invented the “chains” for exact 10-yard measurements. The crowd begins jeering when the referee spots the ball, so the ref calls for the “official measurement,” and the linesmen trot out with the tool. It transfers all the blame and pressure from the referee to the inanimate object. Suddenly, it’s not the ref’s bad placement of the ball; it’s the chain’s fault. The ref gets down and “reads” the distance from the first-down mark and looks to the crowd like, “Hey, sorry folks, it wasn’t me. It’s the chain. Fourth down!” And the crowd accepts this and calms down. Brilliant!
Referees and umpires learn how to handle saying unpopular things and sticking with them. That “training” of being firm has carried over into my adult life, in which I learned that managers often have to say unpopular things and stick with them. Confronting staff about being less than punctual, missing deadlines, and being the source of gossip is not easy. People often talk about the horrible day when they got laid off or fired. Can you imagine how difficult it is for the manager to do the laying off or firing? Some people take it in stride, but sometimes employees in peril beg for a second chance. The manager must stand firm, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy. I recall a couple of experiences in which standing firm was very difficult, and my umpire training came in handy.
Final Decisions
A man on my staff had used all of his sick and vacation hours because his car was very unreliable, and he often couldn’t get to work. I did everything I could (including providing rides from time to time), but over several months, he failed to get a reliable car, pick up a bus schedule, join a carpool, and so on. Once he had no compensatory time left, I had to release him. He was nice and meant well, but it was not fair to the other employees. It was a very emotional firing. Still, I had no choice. I hated losing him; however, showing up in a timely manner is part of the job. My decision was final.
One young woman on my staff was clearly the source of much gossip. Her desk was positioned so she was privy to a lot of executive traffic going in and out of the supervisor’s office, and often, she would pretend to “reveal” stories that were completely made up. Trying to prove something like this is difficult, and I didn’t want to create a debate with a “no I didn’t/yes you did” dynamic. So, I simply rearranged the desks in her area. In the new location, she was nowhere near the executive wing, and it took her ammunition away without causing a no-win confrontation. A few weeks later, she asked if we could rearrange the suite to its former setup as she felt really “removed” from things. I informed her that it seemed things were running much more smoothly for reasons I did not care to discuss, and it never came up again. I would not budge on my decision, and I think she caught on to why.
I’ve also had to deal with employees who were perfect examples of the principles of Parkinson’s Law (Cyril Northcote Parkinson, 1955). He said, “Work expands to fill the time allotted for its completion.” This often means a person takes longer than necessary to complete a task or procrastinates until right before the due date. As my job often included managing the completion of projects (installing above-ground fuel tanks, completing construction of specialty vehicles like nature outreach trailers, and/or construction and placement of informational kiosks), teamwork was critical. I separated projects into smaller tasks. Often, task three could not be completed until task two was finished. If the task three-team leader was tardy, it held up the progress of all the jobs that followed. To be fair, I always asked the team leader to estimate how much time he or she would need. We would negotiate that to a timeframe for which we were both comfortable, and I set a schedule for progress reports.
One fellow was particularly good at saying he needed less time while always needing more. During our meetings, I would emphasize how I would rather have him be honest about his time estimates than employ wishful thinking. Yet, he always estimated short and came in late. As a result, I advanced his second-in-command on the next project and made the leader the assistant. The new leader seized the opportunity and was incredibly punctual. On the next project, I transferred the new leader to another team that sometimes lagged and restored the past leader’s duties. Wanting to prove he had understood the message, my assignment rearrangement worked like a charm, and his punctuality problem was completely solved. I suddenly had two capable task leaders, where I had formerly struggled to maintain one. There was a lot of complaining during the process, but I stood firm, which paid off in the end.
Notice that the common thread in each of the “remedies” was standing firm and not wavering on my decisions.
One evening, around 1976, I umpired a softball game and was positioned between first and second base. The hit came hard to the shortstop, who snagged the line drive and immediately threw to second base to catch the advancing runner, who did not “tag up” before leaving the base. He was clearly out, but my back was turned the other way and, out of instinct, I called him “safe.” I was dead wrong and knew it as the crowd erupted, calling me a variety of colorful names. I recall one gentleman indicated that he felt my parents had not been married when they had me, and another group designated me “number one” in their hearts, as indicated by their middle fingers. The coach came bounding out of the dugout and got in my face. Before he could speak, I said, “I blew it, sorry.” The wind came completely out of his sails as he knew the decision could not be reversed, and I was being honest—painfully honest. “Well …” he stammered, “don’t let it happen again!”
I got off easy that time. But I stood firm and didn’t budge. As the job required.
