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A — Mark Field walked away from his workplace with a question he had to have answered. About 60 bystanders had told him what they thought the answer was, but there was only one person who could satisfactorily solve the matter for Field.

"So I have one question for you Al," he said to his co-worker Albert Ortega. "Was that a ball or a strike?"

"Oh man, that was right down the gut," Ortega said. "It couldn't have been prettier."

"I was sure it was low," Field said, showing the projection of the ball with his hand. "I thought it sunk below the batters knees."

The two umpires had just finished a 10-hour workday, covering four games for the 13-and-younger Division 1 Triple Crown World Series.

Their final game was an extra-inning contest between the Colorado Bulldogs and the Colorado Kings.

In the final inning Field called a ball on a three- balls and two-strikes count to walk a player. It wasn't a popular decision, but the seven-year Triple Crown veteran and longtime umpire from Craig didn't dwell on it too long. His partner wouldn't let him.

"Hey man in a tight game like that, every close call is going to make someone upset," Ortega, a five-year Triple Crown veteran from Denver said. "What can you do?"

And that was that. The day that included a little bit of everything -- an ejection, a blowout, teams threatening to come to blows over two hit batters and an extra-inning thriller -- was over. The highlight for the umpires was the final 4-3 nail biter.

"We had both coaches say we called a good game," Field said. "The coaches are usually who see it the best."

While the close games tend to be the better called games because umpires are more alert, other factors always go into the day.

On days where temperatures are in the 90s, the layers of clothing and a mere 10-minute break between two-and-a-half hour games, the job can be exhausting. Regardless, an umpire needs to remain alert.

"You've got to be on your game or you will get eaten alive by parents and coaches," Field said. "It's at the end of the day when things can get testy."

Other than the usual handful of parents making comments after the game, Field and Ortega were able to stretch our and relax in peace.

The umpires know they aren't perfect and after every game Thursday Ortega and Field would talk about calls they had made the previous game.

"We are always critiquing each other so we can improve," Ortega said. "It is a lot easier to hear a correction from another umpire than a parent. We at least know the umps have a pretty good idea about the rules."

Being an umpire or official can be a full-time job. Ortega and Field have other occupations, but they look forward to their summer months at the ball field.

"We do this for the kids," Ortega said. "Sometimes I think that the kids would have an even greater time without coaches and parents there."

The umpires could also do without the grief, but flack from parents is as much a part of the job as driving a tractor is for a rancher.

"You have to take criticism well in this job," Ortega said.

"Tough skin is a prerequisite," Field added.

Both agreed that the best job they can do is one that goes unnoticed. The key factor in a job well done is one that no one sees. After a runner advances or an out is made, the two umps use hand signals to make sure they know their next assignment.

"People probably don't notice all of the communication we do," Ortega said. "But we're always talking."

Poor communication can result in a controversial call or even no call at all.

When a ball is put in play the umpires talk to each other about which base they need to cover. If communication is crossed up they can end up watching the same base when a play is made elsewhere.

"Probably the worst is when you have two guys at the same base and they make opposite calls," Field said.

The duo had no calls like that on Thursday. As they changed out of their matching uniforms the tan lines of the summer wardrobe were obvious. Both had reverse raccoon eyes from their sunglasses and their legs were pale.

After hanging up his uniform among dozens of others in the makeshift closet in the back of his car, Ortega reminisced about a conversation he had with the second baseman in the last game.

"The kid asked questions about the job and said it must be tough," he said. "It was cool that he recognized that."

With the day's work over the two shook hands and headed to a barbeque hosted by Field.

Four games and hundreds of calls out of the way, they just wanted to relax.

"We get paid to call strikes and outs, not balls and walks," Ortega said. "That way we can go home too."