In softball, a strike zone is loosely defined as a ball that flies anywhere between the knees and back shoulder while crossing over any part of the plate. Every umpire interprets that strike zone differently. Some have tight strike zones, others are more liberal.

Veteran umpire Mike Groby once had his strike zone described as “any ball leaving the pitcher’s hand with a forward motion.” In other words, Groby has a big zone, a really big zone. Consequently, he is a pitcher’s best friend.

“It’s a hitter’s game,” Groby points out, matter-of-factly. He should know. After 20 years of umpiring gay softball, and 30 years officiating high school, college and intramural sports, Groby learned just a few weeks ago that he has been voted into what has become known as the Gay Softball Hall of Fame.

His induction is notable both for what it says about his career, and for just how unique his presence in the Hall will be.

Groby is the first person from San Diego to be voted into the Hall, despite the 26 years America’s Finest City Softball League (AFCSL) has been a member of the North American Gay Amateur Athletic Alliance (NAGAAA). NAGAAA is the adjudicator of the Hall.

Groby says he is also the only umpire inducted into the Hall who didn’t first start in gay softball as a player.

“There are two other umpires in the Hall of Fame,” Groby says, “but they started out playing and then transitioned to umpiring.”

Groby began umpiring gay softball when, as a Minnesota resident in 1988, his best friend was just coming out of the closet and chose softball as a way to meet people and become socially active. “He wanted at least one person at the games that he knew,” Groby says. “So I started umpiring for the league, really for him.”

Since then, Groby says he has umpired in 105 tournaments, including 20 gay softball world series. He has been the Umpire In Charge (UIC) for many of them, including the Gay Games in 1994 in New York City.

As an umpire, Groby is unique. He is loud; he is jovial and, at 52 years young, he is also the oldest umpire working in the AFCSL. When he calls a runner out, everyone in the park can hear it. When he calls a strike, everyone knows it. In the rare event he calls a ball, it too is loud and clear.

His career as an official began early.

Groby grew up on a farm outside Rochester, Minn. He needed a job and saw an ad in a daily paper calling for sports officials. “I started doing intramural sports, and when I was 18, I officiated my first high school football game.”

He remembers that night, more than 30 years ago, pretty clearly. “It was in a town about 70 miles north of Minneapolis,” he says. “I was pretty nervous. Fortunately there were two senior officials there, and we worked well together. Nothing went wrong.”

For Groby, things on the field rarely do. He loves his work and says, “99.9 percent of the time, the interaction with the teams and the players is positive.”

But, Groby acknowledges, that isn’t to say there aren’t annoyances.

While interacting with teams, in what he calls one of his “extended families,” is one of his greatest joys, one of the most frustrating elements of his job is caused by the person standing just over 50 feet away, the pitcher.

Groby admits that “pitchers who can’t throw strikes with my strike zone” chap his hide. “One of the little character flaws I have,” he says, “is that I can be a little impatient.”

But, he adds: “I consider myself very lucky. I’ve met so many wonderful people and have been able to travel to so many places.”

Twenty years of gay softball and induction into its Hall of Fame might cause others to consider hanging up their out indicator, but not Groby. The umpire says he will know it’s time to leave the sport when he can’t hustle out from behind home plate to make the calls on the bases.

“I’m a big guy,” he says. “When I can’t get out there, I’ll know it’s time.”