Suited up to call a game at the Pittsburgh Pirates’ spring training facility in Bradenton, Florida, May steps into his fourth season as a full-time Major League Baseball umpire. Photo by Ryan Young.
Ben May hadn’t quite reached the major leagues yet, but it felt like it.
The Marquette alumnus scanned his surroundings within the friendly confines of Wrigley Field, laying eyes on the iconic ivy along the outfield wall and the scoreboard that has been hand-turned by a stadium employee since this sports cathedral opened in 1914.
He was living any baseball fan’s dream. And as a professional umpire, he was getting paid to do it.
“I grew up watching Cubs games all my life on WGN,” says May, a native of Racine, Wisconsin. “You step back and picture what it used to look like on TV, the Budweiser roof and the Torco sign. And seeing my number on the manual scoreboard out there, it’s surreal. Just crazy.”
That first game was just a taste; May was working a minor league matchup upgraded to the famed facility. But now, not much more than a decade later, he spends nearly every day from March to October inside baseball’s great venues. After a 14-year journey rising through the ranks, including eight shuffling between Triple-A and the majors, he was hired full time by Major League Baseball in 2022.
“I was hell-bent on becoming an umpire by the age of 18,” says May, who first began officiating Little League as a middle schooler. “And probably by age 10, I came to that idea.”
Marquette connections
May, Arts ’05, comes from a true Marquette family. His father, Jim May, Jour ’64, was recruited to Marquette on a football scholarship. Five of the seven May children graduated from Marquette, with Ben rounding out the group. “I loved Marquette,” May says. “It played an integral role in me getting a job in Major League Baseball.”
But even while pursuing a degree in sociology, he was in tune with his true calling. He belonged behind home plate. “I didn’t really make it a secret that I wanted to be an umpire,” May says. “Even during the summertimes before I was in professional baseball, I was umpiring on the weekends out in southeastern Wisconsin, doing recreational ball.”
One day during his sophomore year, he decided it was time to act. He called his dad and told him he wanted to enroll in an umpire school and attempt to turn a hobby into his livelihood.
“My first thought was, how much does that cost?” Jim May recalls.
Umpire school came with a $2,500 price tag covering everything from tuition to the uniform, and Ben had been saving up to pay for it. So, Jim agreed, but requested he still complete his degree. That recommendation was echoed by those at the Florida-based umpire school Ben chose, especially after his first trip through the three-week program left him outside the select group of graduates (about the top 10 percent) cleared for professional duty.
By the time he received his Marquette degree, he had saved up for another trip to the Sunshine State and a second stab at umpire school. This time he made the cut, but his journey to the majors was just beginning.
Riding the bus
Much like ball players, most umpires must pay their dues in the minor leagues before you’ll ever see them calling balls and strikes on national television. This was especially true when May entered the system. Umpires were required to prove themselves on every rung of affiliated baseball, starting out with rookie ball in either the Arizona Complex League or the Florida Gulf Coast League.
Successfully reaching the majors was no promise either; the MLB employs only 76 umpires on a full-time basis. One out of every 100 students who attend umpire school climbs to the top.
So, May endured the transient nature of the job, the constant shuffling from town to town and hotel to hotel, sometimes not knowing his next destination until days before — all in service of a dream. As he puts it, he was resolute in his determination, knowing the sacrifices that would come with it.
“Living in Wisconsin, the summertime is when everybody hangs out and does everything. Not me,” May recalls. “I’m hearing from all my friends, ‘Oh we did this! The Fourth of July was great. Wow, this concert was awesome.’ I missed it all, but I signed up for that.”
That commitment was rewarded when he got the call for his first major league assignment, a doubleheader between the Toronto Blue Jays and Minnesota Twins on April 17, 2014. He battled nerves and the weather — Minneapolis was a balmy 29 degrees that day.
“I don’t think my feet hit the ground until the seventh inning,” May says.
The right call
May, who lives in Milwaukee, was driving down Water Street with his wife when he finally got the call offering a full-time position in 2022. By then, he’d been receiving regular short-term call-ups to the majors, learning to handle the pressure of calling balls and strikes behind the plate in giant ballparks and going face-to-face with angry MLB managers.
He’s now considered one of the most reliable in the game. May was ranked among the top 10 umpires in accuracy as part of a 2018 study conducted at Boston University, an endeavor that required researchers to pore over 350,000 pitches from the previous regular season. Umpire Scorecards, an online platform that measures the accuracy, consistency and favor of umpires, graded May in the 93rd percentile for accuracy and 97th percentile for consistency during the 2024 season.
“I’ve been afforded so many opportunities because of this job to go to different parts of the world and get paid to do it.”
Ben May
His strong performance has brought added opportunity. He was on the left field line for his first MLB All-Star Game in 2024 and has worked each of the last three postseasons. He entered a heated rivalry for his first playoff game behind the plate, a duel between the Philadelphia Phillies and Atlanta Braves. “That was one of my proudest moments,” May says.
He’s umped games in Puerto Rico, Venezuela, Germany and most recently in Japan, when the country hosted the World Baseball Classic. “It’s one of my favorite parts of the job,” May says of the travel. “I’ve been afforded so many opportunities because of this job to go to different parts of the world and get paid to do it.”
New-world baseball
Advances in technology have made it easier than ever to criticize May and his colleagues. Fans at home can spot missed calls on their high-definition televisions, and managers can now ask for a video review to check whether an umpire’s initial call was correct. America’s time-tested pastime has evolved for the 21st century.
“It’s made our jobs a little bit nicer when it comes to not making us the story,” May says of the video reviews. “The other side of it is that when you’re overturned, it’s just about the most humiliating thing that can happen to you. It’s like your pants are around your ankles in front of 40,000 people. You find your humility quick.”
The misses stick with you. May still loses sleep thinking through his performances, especially when he’s positioned behind the plate. You’re on display just like the players, except no one is hooting and hollering for you when you succeed. Well, almost no one.
A dozen of May’s family members were watching from the stands, enjoying a rare opportunity during the 2019 season to see him work in Milwaukee’s American Family Field. The game was tight, with the Brewers facing a one-run deficit, when May called a member of the Crew out on a bang-bang play.
The replay team was summoned as boos rained down from the crowd. They scrutinized each angle, digging for conclusive evidence that the tag was applied in time.
Turns out, May was right.
“What did my family do?” Jim May remembers. “Stand up and cheer. All the folks around us were like, ‘What are you doing? I thought you were for the Brewers!’”
