When he’s not in umpire garb, John Mastalir likes to go to the symphony and watch old black and white movies. He went to Death Valley this year to see the blooming flowers. He’s proud of the respect the coaches, and in particular, the players, have for his work on the field.
Thursday, April 3, 2008 | 2 a.m.
John Mastalir works home plate during a matchup between Foothill and Cheyenne high schools. The 50-year veteran umpire, who has no plans to retire, figures he's called about 3,000 games in his career.
John Mastalir and co-umpire Phil Schlosser leave the game after an afternoon's work.
John Mastalir loves the symphony and old black and white movies starring Lee Marvin as the bad guy, has been known to patronize the ballet and, on the day after this interview, drove to Death Valley because he heard the desert flowers were in bloom.
Oh yeah, and he’s been a baseball umpire for 50 years.
Baseball umpires are supposed to be gruff and tough. They should have nicknames like “Shag” or “Jocko” or “Beans.” They should chew tobacco and cuss a lot.
Mastalir will use the occasional swear word, especially if it’s about a particular local college baseball coach who traditionally gave him a hard time. But he has never had a beer. Nor a cup of coffee. He served in Vietnam, but never did drugs. He speaks softly but does not carry a big stick. He carries black licorice. Each coach gets some during the exchange of lineup cards. “It puts the situation at ease,” Mastalir says.
As for gruff and tough? Well, “tomorrow I’m driving out to Death Valley to see the flowers and see the birds.”
Thoughtful and introspective, maybe. But not gruff and tough.
Mastalir has been calling balls and strikes for half a century. Fifty years. That’s a lot of infield flies, if fair. A lot of verbal abuse. That’s like sitting in the front row at Don Rickles for the entire two-week engagement.
“A real character builder, for sure,” Mastalir says.
• • •
In 1958, when he was a 13-year-old kid growing up in rural Nebraska, John Mastalir never dreamed of being an umpire. “I wanted to play shortstop for the Yankees, like we all did,” he said.
He was standing off to the side of a makeshift diamond in Clearwater, Neb., the kind where balls hit into the cornstalks are ground-rule doubles and there’s no left-field fence because the cows have knocked it down, probably dreaming of becoming the next Phil Rizzuto, when somebody shouted, “Hey kid, wanna ump the bases?”
By the time he was 17, he was behind the plate for American Legion games. He wasn’t dreaming of playing shortstop for the Yankees anymore. Maybe he’d call one of them out on a pitch that caught the outside corner.
Mastalir went to umpire school. He became a professional umpire. Called more than 1,000 pro games. Made it as far as the Texas League. Two rungs from The Show, albeit very big rungs, Mastalir said.
He worked home plate when Rich “Goose” Gossage was throwing smoke for the Appleton (Wis.) Foxes en route to the Hall of Fame. He loved bantering with catchers such as Darrell Porter and Rick Dempsey on their way to the bigs. What he did not like was when a gruff and tough Double-A manager who chewed tobacco and cussed a lot threatened to perform surgery on him during the seventh-inning stretch.
“They wanted to cut your (privates) off over a check swing,” Mastalir says. “It was brutal. Plus, I wasn’t very good when I was in pro ball.”
He was very good the day I watched him. Mastalir is 63 now, but he bounced around the field at the Cheyenne vs. Foothill High game as if there were tiny springs in the soft dirt behind home plate. I didn’t see him miss a call. And if he did, nobody complained. The coaches respect him. More important, so do the kids.
“I wasn’t so confident, so self-assured when I was in pro ball,” Mastalir said. “I didn’t have the ability or the strike zone or the confidence, whatever.”
After the game, I walked with him back to the umpire’s dressing room — his car. How many times had he put on the blue suit in the parking lot? I asked. He said he didn’t know. His balls and strikes indicator doesn’t go that high.
“I just did my taxes,” Mastalir says. “Last year, I had $3,400 (of umpiring income). “At $60 a game, that’s 55 or 60 (games). Let’s say an average of 60 a year since I’ve been here, since 1985. Then another 1,200 or 1,400 when I was in the Big Eight and the Big Ten. Then I did a thousand pro games and ...”
Conservatively, we came up with about 3,000 games, give or take a few infield flies. That’s a lot of balls and strikes. A lot of check swings ... and threats of experimental surgery.
But “I still enjoy a ballgame and being a small part of it on the field,” Mastalir says, adding that he has no plans to retire.
“The only thing better would be if I was still 18.”
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