Major League Baseball umpire Phil Cuzzi announced his retirement this week after 27 seasons working at the highest level of the game. If you spent the last 48 hours scrolling social media, you might think he leaves the profession as a controversial figure.
But then again, what umpire doesn’t?
Officiating is one of the most stressful jobs in sports. Every call is magnified. Every missed pitch lives forever in slow motion. In a world of high-definition replay and instant outrage, perfection is demanded, even though it’s impossible.
Yes, you might see the 2023 clip of Cuzzi exchanging heated words with the Astros dugout. “Fuck me? Fuck You!” he barked in a moment that quickly went viral. That was the Italian American, North Jersey native showing a little fire. Push the right buttons and you’ll get a reaction. For fans, it became midseason comic relief. For Cuzzi, it was just another night managing emotions in a pressure cooker.
Then there was the Max Scherzer ejection in 2023. Cuzzi removed the future Hall of Famer after determining there was a foreign substance on his hands. Scherzer insisted it was sweat and rosin. Cuzzi maintained he gave him multiple chances over several innings to wash his hands and change his glove, but the issue persisted. When NJ.com covered Cuzzi’s retirement this week, the headline referenced that incident instead of his decades of work.
That’s the nature of the job. The flashpoints get remembered more than the foundation.
The truth is, Phil Cuzzi is far more than a disputed strike zone or a high-profile ejection. He became the oldest umpire to call a Major League game at 70, and his mask now sits in Cooperstown, a testament to his longevity and dedication to the craft. That matters.
But what matters even more is who he is beyond the diamond.
In northern New Jersey, Phil Cuzzi is beloved. Attend the Robert Luongo ALS Foundation gala at Nanina’s on the Park in Belleville and you’ll see it for yourself. Nearly 700 people pack the room, friends, family, athletes, entertainers, community leaders, all there because of Phil. The event has become a must-attend gathering in the tri-state area, raising significant funds and awareness in the fight against ALS. Regular attendees have included heavyweight champion Gerry Cooney and Sopranos star Steven Schirripa. That kind of loyalty isn’t built on umpiring calls. It’s built on character.
Join Phil for dinner at La Sicilia in Belleville and you’ll witness the same thing. He shakes hands with everyone. He orders enough food for an Italian army. He tells stories that keep the table laughing. He holds court not because he demands attention, but because people genuinely enjoy being around him. He is gracious. He is grounded. He has never forgotten where he came from.
“He’s the type of guy who would give you the shirt off his back. So humble, so appreciative,” said Carmine Gangone, President of the Italian American Baseball Foundation. “But he’s also the guy in his town. People respect him. He cares. He’s loyal. He understands there’s more to life than baseball, even though he’s incredibly proud of what he’s accomplished in the game.”
That pride was on full display last year when the Italian American Baseball Foundation honored Cuzzi with its Achievement Award. He had the audience engaged from start to finish, telling stories from three decades in the big leagues with humor, perspective and gratitude.
Baseball may have lost one of its most veteran umpires this week.
But the world has gained something even better, a faithful servant with more time to give back, to fight for ALS awareness, to share his stories and to keep us laughing about the beautiful, complicated game he helped steward for nearly 30 years.
Even if Max Scherzer might not love one of those stories.
Chris R. Vaccaro is senior editorial advisor of World Baseball Network and Vice President of the Italian American Baseball Foundation.
