High Definition a Huge Disaster?

Watching the World Cup has been a real treat for me this year because I have been blessed enough to take in matches the way God righteously intended when he gave us television: on a 50-something inch flatscreen in 1080p High-Definition picture. Being a broke college student most of the last half-decade, HDTV was nothing more to me than something I drooled over when strolling stoned through Best Buy on my way to play their free PS3. But now that I have finally graduated, things are looking up: I’ve moved back in with Mom and Dad, whose hard work has provided us all the opportunity to sit around on the couch and watch in vivid detail every individual drop of sweat dripping down each little vuvuzela-blowing African child’s chin, and now that I don’t have school or a job I’ve had nothing stopping me from catching those morning and daytime matchups working stiffs despise and getting so stoned I sometimes believe I am actually in a room filled with Madonna and Sandra Bullock’s vuvuzela-blowing children. Soccer is now finally living up to its billing as the beautiful game, all thanks to High Definition television.

And it’s not just the World Cup, either. Watching each and every one of ESPN’s Sunday, Monday, and Wednesday Night Baseball, not to mention MLB Network’s Tuesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday morning, day, and night games, in HD is truly a wonderful thing. I duck when foul balls come my way and I check my toes for splash residue every time I see a highly-defined big league-style chaw spit. I’m watching sports in a way I didn’t think possible without buying a ticket, or at least sneaking in through an unlocked gate. And while HiDef does make Scott Van Pelt look extra bald and shiny, and does make Stuart Scott’s busted eye look excessively creepy, it is also the sole reason I am now able to enjoy Michelle Beadle’s hard nipples regularly on Sportsnation. Ahhhhhhh, the HD life.

With network cameras canvassing every square inch of the stadium, I actually can see the games better stretched out on my comfy couch than I could slammed shoulder to shoulder in some sold-out stadium. It is amazing how not a play is missed without a distant, obstructed and overpaid for view. Additionally, my feet are not sore by the end of the game since I now only have to stand up when I feel so inclined rather than every time the asshole in front of me does. There is also nobody to cutoff my consumption of alcohol, nobody to fight for a spot at the bathroom trough, and nobody to throw me in handcuffs if on said trip to the bathroom I should possibly urinate somewhere other than the designated area. I’ve basically been feeling like Aladdin about to score with Princess Jasmine: High Definition television has shown me a whole new world.

But, just like Aladdin learned from Jafar, I too have found a darker side to this new world. It seems like now hardly a day goes by that I don’t end up lambasting some official for blowing what appeared to me to be an obvious call. Ok, well that’s actually nothing new, but what is new is that now with my HD view, I’m truly right in my accusations. I no longer argue officiating based on irrational conspiracy theories about refs having to throw games due to threats against their children, I can now legitimately dispute blown calls solely based on the High Definition picture presented before me. I can observe that bit of paint kicked up on a drive down the line when the ump calls it foul; I can distinguish in super close-up and super slow-motion if the runner indeed avoided the tag but still got called out; I can watch a dozen replays if I want to determine whether the throw really made it in time. And I don’t like it one bit.

Part of the fun of watching a live sporting event is making your own judgments of the action, deciding for yourself if the centerfielder actually made the diving catch without the ball touching the grass. Whether the last out of the game was a fair called strike or not has always provided plenty of debate for opposing fans heading out of a shared exit. We can appreciate how spectacularly quick bang-bang plays actually happen when not afforded the luxury of infinite viewings. We can also comprehend the reasonable twinges of doubt that almost always exist after certain calls. Because of this, live fans hold the umpire and his respective rulings to the utmost level respect. They value his vision and opinion given his positioning on the field and his superior experience judging these types of things. He is much closer to the action after all, and has made a career out of it. And while without doubt we will still be vocally assaultive towards anything with which we may disagree, we at least admire the emotional fortitude it takes to subject oneself to such punishment. Later, in the privacy of our own homes we might even concede that maybe the right call was made.

Now will all this High Definition nonsense, couch callers have obtained the upper hand over on field officials. No longer do we argue questionable calls as much because of the excitable crowd atmosphere as for the call itself. No longer are our screams at umpires veiled hopes that we are doing our little part to will our favorite team to victory, derived out of desperation. Nope, today any idiot with Tivo and a battery controlled clicker in his hand is suddenly the expert while the man in blue holding the manual clicker is deemed the buffoon. Umpires are now jeered as equally as the idiot at Burger King who gave me French fries when I clearly told him I wanted onion rings. It’s their job, they get paid to do it, and how the hell could they screw up something so blatantly obvious! I demand to speak to the person whose name tag reads “Manager,” or in this case, Commissioner Bud Selig.

We really need to get over it, already. Rather than raise our level of expectations for officiating due to progressive picture quality, we should instead raise our appreciation for how hard of a job it actually is being a professional umpire and making the correct call on the spot. I don’t think there is an umpire out there who is conspiring to screw my team (except maybe Joe West, but that’s a whole other story). The guys in blue make it to the big leagues the same way the guys in jerseys do; they’re the best in the game. And for the most part I think MLB umps do a pretty damn good job. The fact that they have only their eyes and their experience and not 20 million pixels guiding their decisions should not be held against them. It doesn’t matter what a play looks like replayed a million times on your HD flatscreen if that is not what is seen by the one person deemed fit to make the ruling and being paid to give his decision on it.

Sports should be more about the camaraderie of common purpose than crucifying those who become easiest to blame in our darkest competitive hours. If you really are a person of such limited life interest that you refuse to move on and insist on living vicariously through a bunch of spoiled millionaires who don’t give a crap about you, I’ll tell you who to blame. Blame the players for putting themselves in position to lose a game on one poor call late in the game. Any respecting sabermetrician will tell you that the first out is as statistically valued as the last, and I refuse to believe that in any game in history has a team ever played completely perfect only to lose on a single bad call. To this, some may argue the case of Armando Galarraga being robbed of a perfect game on the last out of the game. While this would have been cool to see, it was entirely blown out of proportion. All umpire Jim Joyce did was merely deny a personal accomplishment that would have no bearing on the final success of the Tigers’ season. In the end, the fact that Galarraga didn’t get the perfect game brought him much more attention and fanfare than if Joyce hadn’t muffed the call.

Fans need to just shut up and let the umpires do what they are paid to do. Yes, they are going to blow some calls, they always have and always will. Nobody seemed to worry about that too much when the only option for not watching the game in person was to listen to it on the radio and things seemed to carry on just fine. If someone really isn’t happy with the quality of officiating, they should go down to one of the umpire schools in Florida, then earn their way up to the majors and show everyone how it should be done. And to anyone who thinks that with all this new technology available the answer is instant replay, if you prefer your judgments made based on pixel count and zoom and slow motion then save yourself the trouble of even going to see what happens at the stadium and just stay home and enjoy the newfound level of armchair umpiring your High Definition 50 inch flatscreen affords you.