There was once a major league umpire who was, to put it mildly, a complete and total ass, with a raging temper and the
hairiest of hair triggers. All of the players hated it when he was on the field, but they only had him for short periods; the
same was true of his fellow umpires but they too had to deal with him for relatively short periods. His family on the other
hand had to attempt to live with him constantly.
And this was no easy task. He habitually came home drunk and surly, belittled and beat his wife, and was intolerably
cruel to their five year old son. On this particular day things were the worst they had ever been: dinner was not on the
table and ready to eat the moment he came through the door, and his son was incorrigibly happy about a little golden
trophy he had won at school, for something or other; Dad didn't know what it was for and didn't care. All he knew
was that the kid wouldn't shut up about the crummy piece of plastic and Dad, after yelling at his wife and cuffing her
around a bit over the dinner, grabbed the trophy, threw it to the floor, stomped it into tiny pieces, and gave the kid one
up-side the head for crying about it.
Bad dreams plagued the man that night and he awoke with the realization of what he had become. He resolved to set
things right and after that day's game he went straight home - no stopping at the bar as was his habit - and came in the
front door whistling. His wife, who hadn't expected him home for several more hours and had barely started dinner,
was terrified but instead of a beating she got a smile and a kiss. He told her he had seen the error of his ways and was
going to make things up to her and the boy.
He sat in his chair in the living room and called his son. When the boy came into the room and saw where Daddy was
sitting he went into a full panic; his worst spankings had come when Daddy sat in that chair! When Dad called for the boy
to come sit on his lap the kid just knew he was about to get a beating and couldn't take it. He ran out the front door and
hid in some bushes. No matter how nice Dad was from that day on the boy would never come near him without
experiencing some terror, and he would never, ever sit on his lap!
And the moral of the story is:
The son never sits on the brutish umpire!
hairiest of hair triggers. All of the players hated it when he was on the field, but they only had him for short periods; the
same was true of his fellow umpires but they too had to deal with him for relatively short periods. His family on the other
hand had to attempt to live with him constantly.
And this was no easy task. He habitually came home drunk and surly, belittled and beat his wife, and was intolerably
cruel to their five year old son. On this particular day things were the worst they had ever been: dinner was not on the
table and ready to eat the moment he came through the door, and his son was incorrigibly happy about a little golden
trophy he had won at school, for something or other; Dad didn't know what it was for and didn't care. All he knew
was that the kid wouldn't shut up about the crummy piece of plastic and Dad, after yelling at his wife and cuffing her
around a bit over the dinner, grabbed the trophy, threw it to the floor, stomped it into tiny pieces, and gave the kid one
up-side the head for crying about it.
Bad dreams plagued the man that night and he awoke with the realization of what he had become. He resolved to set
things right and after that day's game he went straight home - no stopping at the bar as was his habit - and came in the
front door whistling. His wife, who hadn't expected him home for several more hours and had barely started dinner,
was terrified but instead of a beating she got a smile and a kiss. He told her he had seen the error of his ways and was
going to make things up to her and the boy.
He sat in his chair in the living room and called his son. When the boy came into the room and saw where Daddy was
sitting he went into a full panic; his worst spankings had come when Daddy sat in that chair! When Dad called for the boy
to come sit on his lap the kid just knew he was about to get a beating and couldn't take it. He ran out the front door and
hid in some bushes. No matter how nice Dad was from that day on the boy would never come near him without
experiencing some terror, and he would never, ever sit on his lap!
And the moral of the story is:
The son never sits on the brutish umpire!
