Hate ’em or love ’em, you have to have ’em. With about 35 baseball fields in the county, baseball umpires are as necessary as a sweater in July.

The Peninsula Umpires Association is one of the most well-known umpire’s organizations in the county. Its 57 active members have umpired about 1,800 games this year.

They are the first, last and only line of authority on the diamond. While spectators untrained in the Uniform Code of Baseball Justice may believe the umpires are drunk with power, that’s likely not ever the case. They’re just doing the job they’re trained to do.

And sometimes that job gets ugly.

Referees know that not every call they make is spot-on. And, if they’re lame enough to believe they’re perfect creatures, the fans will gladly (and in a loud, vocal manner) inform them otherwise.

They are the subject of insult, scrutiny and sometimes pure hatred. Yet they’re the invisible heroes behind America’s favorite pastime, bringing order to chaos and making the tough calls.

They are umpires.

Their striped shirts, face plates and whistles set them aside from the mainstream baseball fan. They’re not the ones hiding behind anonymity amongst the security blankets of friendship, hot dogs, popcorn and peanuts, scoffing at the efforts of others.

They are the others.

To referee, they take time from their own family and friends, stay current on baseball’s ever-changing rules and regulations and undergo training come January and February.

They purchase their own equipment and uniforms, which can cost a beginning umpire upwards of $500, and they’re paid $30 per game for the youngsters and $60-70 per game at the collegiate level.

That pretty much proves they don’t do it for the money.

And they don’t do it for the glory, that’s for sure.

“We regard it as a community service. It’s something that’s needed for youth sports to operate. I’m glad to do it on that ground,” said UPA secretary Chuck Sacrison, an umpire 16 years in the making.

Each referee has his own style. Some are plain Jane, while others have 37 pieces of flair. Whether their version of “strike” is monosyllabic or drawn out over a 15-second time span, all referees have one thing in common: Without them, there’d be no sport. For that, they should be thanked, congratulated, rewarded and — above all — respected.

Those men and women in the zebra stripes — no matter what sport over which they preside — are the unsung heros of local athletics.

Their evenings and weekends are not spent on the couch or helping their children with homework. Their time is spent behind home plate, hand cradled around a counter, umpiring over a young player who could be the next Jennie Finch or Alex Rodriguez.

Next time you’re at a baseball or softball game and — from the comfort of your view in the cheap seats — it looks like the referee has made a bad call, don’t bad-mouth them. Instead, just appreciate that they’re there.