hat, like the weight requirement, is another of those commandments I could always order my umpires to do but could rarely follow myself. I just hate to knuckle under, so I'm already ready to gripe. My father explained it this way: "You’ve got a six-foot mouth in a five-foot body, Carl Wyatt. That’s likely going to get you killed." When I started umpiring in National Baseball Leagues at 18, he acted on his belief— and took out a life insurance policy, the centerpiece of which was a double indemnity clause. If an angry coach killed me, he and my mother would collect $20,000.
Note: I've told that story so often, I think some readers are beginning to believe it. I'm one of them.
Whether I can follow it is beside the point. It’s good advice, obeying association policies. For example:
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