Gary Cederstrom, of MINOT, NORTH DAKOTA, was named the crew chief today by Major League Baseball.
Cederstrom has been umpiring in the Major Leagues since 1989 and has umpired in two previous World Series - in 2005 and 2011.
Cederstrom will be the right field umpire for game one of the fall classic tomorrow night in Kansas City as the Royals take on the New York Mets. He is scheduled to serve as home plate umpire in game six, should the best-of-seven series last that long.My hunch is that being from Minot he doesn't take any crap (can I say that?) from the players, no matter how much they (the players) get paid. I remember as a wrestler at Williston High School in the late 60s, there were only three teams I feared: a) the Minot teams, especially Minot Ryan; b) the Watford City team; and, c) any team from Montana (generally we wrestled Billings, I recall; I don't remember Miles City but I assume we wrestled them, also).
Anyway, here's the backstory to the KXNET story, from the reader:
This might be remembered by Minot State alumni who graduated in 1978. One of the guys in a frat there had (what I thought) was a rather unusual (and far-fetched in my mind) career aspiration.
Gary Cederstrom wanted to be a major league umpire. Well, now I find out that he is leading the umpire crew in the World Series this year! Amazing!!
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For The Granddaughters
By the way, the same reader (that sent me the Gary Cederstrom story above) reminded me of the donut "shop" near Rickard Elementary School, Williston, North Dakota, when I was in high school. It was run by an elderly couple out of their house in a residential neighborhood (I was 16 or so at the time and anyone over 30 was "elderly"). I could be wrong, but correct me if I am, but I think the house was less than 500 square feet. I think the city sidewalk around the house had more square feet of cement than the foundation of the house under discussion. I always wondered where the donuts could possibly be made. Well, now I know: in the basement. (You know, in the basement in New Jersey in the 1920's they would have been distilling, but in North Dakota, in the 60s, the Norwegians made donuts and the Swedes made meatballs.)
Coach Amsden had me pick up two dozen donuts for the concession stand that the Lettermen's Club operated for every varsity basketball game (Phil Jackson played at WHS when I was there in my freshman year). I had an old 1948 Willys Jeep (no door windows) and religiously I would drive to the donut "shop" about two hours before every game to pick up the donuts, regardless of the weather. I can't even imagine explaining to Coach Amsden why I hadn't picked up the donuts if I ever failed in the mission.
I have no idea what I paid/sold the donuts for but it wouldn't surprise me if we bought the donuts for 10 cents a piece and sold them for a quarter. I did not know then, but I know now, the purpose of selling donuts was not to make money, but to have the donut aroma permeate the gymnasium, sort of like the popcorn, to entice customers. Wow, I wish I knew then what I know now. (For starters I would have bought 10 mineral acres northeast of Watford City with the money we made on donuts.)
I had long forgotten the name of this donut "shop." In fact, I don't recall ever knowing that it ever had a name. I still wonder how I found the "shop" the first time Coach Amsden sent me on what must likely seemed to be a wild-goose chase. But from the reader, now I know that, also. Apparently it was called the Donut Hole.
For those who wonder where the Donut Hole was located (if that was its name), it was two houses north of the Njos's. I know how to pronounce Kjorstad but I won't attempt "Njos's." I think it needs one less consonant, and maybe an extra vowel would help. (Yes, I know this is going to invite comments from those living in the southwest part of the state.)
Anyway, enough of this. Life is too short at the front end; too long at the back end.
[Back to the wrestling story: I especially feared Minot Ryan because it was a Catholic school. I was Lutheran and went to the public schools in Williston, but the Catholics had their own school until the later grades. I figured there must be a special reason for anyone to go to a Catholic school -- based on physique and stamina and discipline -- and then I heard about nuns, which confirmed my fears. At least the stamina and discipline part. Montana was just plain scary.]
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