He refuses to let the players discuss a decision with him, maintaining that there is never any room for argument. If a man makes any talk with him, it is quick to the shower bath. “Silk” has a voice of which he is proud and declares that he shares the honors with Caruso and that it is only his profession as an umpire that keeps him off the grand-opera circuit. I have heard a lot of American League ball-players say at various times that they wished he was on the grand-opera circuit or some more calorific circuit, but they were mostly prejudiced at those moments by some sentiments which “Silk” had just voiced in an official capacity.
As is well known in baseball, “Silk” is the inventor of “Strike Tuh!” and the creased trousers for umpires. I have heard American League players declare that they are afraid to slide when “Silk” is close down over a play for fear they will bump up against his trousers and cut themselves. He is one of the kind of umpires who can go through a game on the hottest summer day, running about the bases, and still keep his collar unwilted. At the end he will look as if he were dressed for an afternoon tea.
Always he wears on his right hand, which is his salary or decision wing, a large diamond that sparkles in the sunlight every time he calls a man out. Many American League players assert that he would rather call a man out than safe, so that he can shimmer his “cracked ice,” but again they are usually influenced by circumstances. Such is “Silk,” well named.
Corresponding to him in the National League is “Billy” Klem. He always wears a Norfolk jacket because he thinks it more stylish, and perhaps it is, and he refuses to don a wind pad. Ever notice him working behind the bat? But I am going to let you in on a secret. That chest is not all his own. Beneath his jacket he carries his armor, a protector, and under his trousers’ legs are shin guards. He insists that all players call him “Mr.” He says that he thinks maybe soon his name will be in the social register.
“Larry” Doyle thought that he had received the raw end of a decision at second base one day. He ran down to first, where Klem had retreated after he passed his judgment.
“Say, ‘Bill,’” exploded “Larry,” “that man didn’t touch the bag—didn’t come within six feet of it.”
“Say, Doyle,” replied Klem, “when you talk to me call me ‘Mr. Klem.’”
“But, Mr. Klem—” amended “Larry.”
Klem hurriedly drew a line with his foot as Doyle approached him menacingly.
“But if you come over that line, you’re out of the game, Mr. Doyle,” he threatened.