Editor’s note: This is the first of an occasional series featuring unsung sports heroes who play important roles in the games we love to participate in and watch throughout Utah. Today’s story highlights a man who’s called softball games — and square dancing — around the state for decades. Meet Raymond Rhea, who’s also known as Ray Rhea by friends and Uncle Buddy by nieces and nephews, including this story’s author. Send profile nominations to jody@deseretnews.com.)
SALT LAKE CITY — Years ago, Hot Rod Hundley was the second baseman on his recreational softball team, and the ball was hit in his direction for what seemed like an easy-peasy double play. Hundley fielded the grounder, placed his foot down for the out at second and then hurled the ball to the first baseman.
Double play. You gotta love it, baby!
Raymond Rhea clearly recalls that sequence from a game many moons ago at the Valley Complex in Taylorsville.
Only problem?
Hundley’s foot missed the bag, and the runner was called safe. Rhea was the umpire that day, and it always brings a smile to his face to share his encounter with the late Hall of Fame announcer.
Rhea hasn’t tallied the number of games he’s umped over the last half-century, but the formula goes something like this: Multiply 50 years by the number of nights in the spring, summer and fall — minus Sundays — and then times that by about three games, give or take. Heck, there was one Saturday when he was behind the plate for nine games.
“You’re blind!” Rhea recalls a fired-up Hundley telling him. “I easily got the bag.”
Rhea didn’t back down. There is an “in the neighborhood” unwritten rule on the diamond, but the Utah Jazz’s play-by-play man apparently wasn’t in that neighborhood.
“Hot Rod, with those long legs of yours, you still missed it,” Rhea told him.
Ron Boone was on that team, and Rhea remembers that the former ABA/NBA player and Jazz commentator laughed at the situation. Hundley didn’t laugh.
“I liked the guy,” Rhea said. “He was funny, a great commentator …”
But he didn’t touch second base — and he could be a wise guy to umps at times, too.
That’s just one of the many stories Rhea has from a long career as a part-time umpire along the Wasatch Front. He will celebrate his 50th anniversary of calling games when umpires all around the sports world are allowed to yell “Play ball!” once this coronavirus pandemic clears up.
Rhea hasn’t tallied the number of games he’s umped over the last half-century, but the formula goes something like this: Multiply 50 years by the number of nights in the spring, summer and fall — minus Sundays — and then times that by about three games, give or take. Heck, there was one Saturday when he was behind the plate for nine games.
Rounded up, that’s a whole lot of games he’s umped since 1970.
“I like the association with the players and the fans,” said the affable Rhea, who umps around the Wasatch Front. ”It keeps me young. If you were around me, you would think I’m a young 72.”
Fifty years ago, Rhea’s umpiring career began as “a fluke.” His team finished playing the 8 p.m. game at Harmony Park in South Salt Lake when it was brought to his attention that there wasn’t an ump for the 9 p.m. game. His coach recommended that he give it a shot because he knew the sport of softball pretty well.
His answer: “No. I don’t want to get yelled at.”
“I promise you they’ll be nice to you,” Rhea was told. “I’ll talk to them.”
And just like that, a new hobby was born.
Bonus: “I’ll be darned,” Rhea said. “They were pretty nice.”
Considering rec softball umps only made $6 a game back then — and around $22-$25 now — the players and coaches should take it easy on them.
A memorable softball player who cut him some slack: the late Larry H. Miller. The former Utah Jazz owner was on the mound for a fast-pitch game, and his catcher was giving Rhea “a really hard time.” At one point, Miller approached the catcher, getting about halfway to home plate, and said, “Leave him alone. He’s doing a good job.”
Rhea was left alone after that.
Over the years, Rhea has umped games for other well-known sports figures. He even remembers the score of an American Legion baseball game he called — he dabbled in baseball for a few years in the 1970s — that featured ex-NBA/BYU player Fred Roberts, a 6-foot-10 pitcher who threw lasers, going against a 6-foot-7 pitcher from Granger High. (Roberts’ Bingham team lost 3-1.)
He’s even umped games with friends and family playing, including two sons and yours truly with the mighty championship-winning Deseret News co-ed team.
Regardless of who’s on the diamond, Rhea always calls the game as he sees it, fair and square. He also runs toward the action, unlike many umps who stay close to home. He figures managers and players will give him a break if he misses a call as long as they see him actively trying to do the best job possible and putting himself in a prime position to see what’s going on.
“You’re going to be wrong. You just are. Nobody’s perfect,” Rhea admits. “If you hustle, you get away with a lot that you wouldn’t if you didn’t hustle.”
And if you are wrong? Don’t admit it, Rhea said, laughing. It won’t help.
A retired machinist and longtime square-dancing caller/DJ, he admits that it helps him stay in shape, too.
Though he has fond memories, there are some softball players he’d rather forget. One poor sport jumped on Rhea because he called a ball that cleared the fence in right field a foul instead of a home run. Rhea remembers it being at least six feet to the right of the pole. The guy’s teammates concurred.
“When I started, it was for the money. As I continued doing it, I really didn’t need the money, but I enjoyed the participation with the players. Even now, I know a lot of people from umpiring that I still see.” — Raymond Rhea
Unfortunately, that man had been drinking throughout the game.
“I’m sure he wasn’t seeing clearly,” Rhea said.
After the game ended, the guy attacked Rhea, cutting his leg open with his metal cleats, requiring stitches, and pounding on his head, leaving lumps on his ears. Rhea eventually won a court settlement.
But that ugly event was the exception. Usually, Rhea does his job and the players play their games, everybody has a good time and they part ways. One team at an out-of-town tournament thought he did such a good job they took him to dinner after the day’s games.
“When I started, it was for the money,” Rhea said. “As I continued doing it, I really didn’t need the money, but I enjoyed the participation with the players. Even now, I know a lot of people from umpiring that I still see.”
Though he’s had two brain surgeries and keeps busy with his DJ job, Rhea said he’ll continue umping as long as he can.
“Let’s put it this way,” he said, “when I can’t run, I’ll probably have to quit.”
If softball teams in Utah are lucky, that won’t happen for years to come.