THE UMPIRE struck back. He ripped off his mask, turned to the stands where sat his tormentor, stalked over, breathed heavily several times to collect himself, looked up through the fence and fixed her with a hard countenance that would have made Captain Ahab say, “Boy, that guy is really angry.” Then he spoke, each word as heavy as the aluminum bats splayed out on the ground. “That’s it, lady. That . . . is . . . it. One more word from you, you open your mouth one more time, and I’m throwing you out.”
The woman, no shrinking violet, mockingly met his flashing eye with both of her own, bit back the piquant rejoinder she was no doubt playing pepper with and nodded her sarcastic assent to Inspector Javert, who replaced his mask, hulk-walked his way back to home plate and resumed play.
