Early in my baseball umping career -dating it, the base ump had also been at Normandy Beach on D-Day - we were working a high school gamein farm country. The backstop was made out of chicken wire and an older fella' was sitting in a lawchair directly behind. When his home team was at bat, if I called a strike I would hear :
"HOKEY PETE, HE NEEDED A GOLF CLUB!" or "HOKEY PETE, HE NEEDED A TENNIS RACKET!"

When the visitors were up, if I called a ball I would hear:
"HOKEY PETE, RIGHT DOWN BROADWAY !"

In the 3rd or 4th inning, a warmup pitch went to the backstop. I flipped the catcher a new one and went to retrieve. As I was picking up the ball my eyes met those of the fan

. His face was beet-red with a hard stare. I felt I should say something,so I did :
"Let me know if I miss any

."
He responded:
"MISS ANY

, I AIN'T SURE YOU GOT ANY RIGHT, YET

!"

We both

laughed and I never heard a peep from him the remainder of the game

. His team lost and as we were heading toward my car, we heard:
"MR. UMPIRE, MR. UMPIRE...."

Paul, the base ump who had once ran toward Nazi pill boxes on Normandy Beach, wispered : " Don't look, don't look..." . I responded : "It can't be too bad, he said MiISTER

!" I looked, the fan was waving and said :
'MISTER UMPIRE, YOU WEREN'T SO BAD

!"
FAN IS SHORT FOR FANATIC...