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Updated: June 27, 2025
However, I consented; for appreciating that McClung was sincere in his statement that he would do nothing but referee, I was forced to accept the Umpire's task. It was a game full of intense rivalry. The desire to win was carrying the men beyond the bounds of an ordinarily spirited contest, and the Umpire's job proved a most severe task.
Because that machinery is far from perfect, the umpire's life is often a distracted one. Many crucial plays he has to judge by eye. The last vestige of dispute could be taken out of the game, as it has been taken out of chess when people obey the rules, if somebody thought it worth his while to photograph every play.
His legal brother was very quietly pursuing his lunars with the paper tube, expecting soon to work up all the curious angles of the Umpire's face.
Only two of the Westonians believed that the decision was just, Crawley himself, and the youth who had taken his place, and was now so triumphant. But he hated Crawley, and rejoiced in his discomfiture, even though it told against his own side, so his opinion went for nothing. Well, no more did anybody's else except the umpire's, who after all is the only person capable of judging.
And when a man was running, and threw himself on his stomach to slide to his base, it was like an iron-clad coming into port. At first I appointed men of no rank to act as umpires, but I had to discontinue that. These people were no easier to please than other nines. The umpire's first decision was usually his last; they broke him in two with a bat, and his friends toted him home on a shutter.
"Centrals will get me rattled with that bang-ow-ow! of theirs every time they spring it on me," thought Ted savagely. "Strike two!" Again Ted had failed to realize that the ball was coming. In his anger be wondered whether he'd rather throw his bat at the umpire or at smiling Dick Prescott. "Strike three!" called the umpire's steady voice. "Side out."
"How's that?" The appeal comes from every part of the ground. And then, clearly and unmistakably, the umpire's fiat is spoken "Out!" The Rev. Sep rises and rushes off, upsetting chairs, treading on toes, bent only upon being the first to tell Warde that Harrow has won. "Io! Io! Io!" The blue of the Harrow colours. Lamper, i.e. Lamp-post.
"We're going to set off a big bonfire this evening, Ted," Captain Prescott rejoined. "If we win to-day will you agree to be on hand to light the fire?" "Yes; if you win," agreed Ted. "But you can't!" The umpire's quiet voice called the captains of the nines apart. "Who'll call the toss?" asked Ben. "Let Teall do it," Dick answered. "You do it, Prescott," urged Captain Ted.
His fingers closed there, and he sent the fellow reeling to one side. "Hold on, Carker," he said, as Greg started to speak. He realized it was the umpire's intention to put McCann out of the game. There were indications that the crowd of toughs contemplated rushing onto the field.
But Peter squashed both demonstrations. He did not know Doctor Gilman had been forced to resign, but he protested that the horse-play of his friends would make him appear a bad loser. "It would look, boys," he said, "as though I couldn't take my medicine. Looks like kicking against the umpire's decision. Old Gilman fought fair. He gave me just what was coming to me.
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