For 50 years, until this past January, Marty Springstead worked as an umpire and then an umpire supervisor. Five times, the Nyack native was part of a crew that umpired nohitters, twice as the plate ump. He also has taught umpiring throughout the world. He lives in Sarasota, Fla. Here’s a view from behind the mask, as told to Kevin Kernan.

Let me tell you about Jim Joyce.

I’ve known him since 1988, when I was running the American League umpires and scouted him in the Pacific Coast League. I remember watching him for a couple of day games in Vegas and being impressed. I didn’t know him as a person, just as an umpire. I went down to see him and he asked, “How long are you here for?”

I told him I was leaving tomorrow — but I wasn’t leaving tomorrow. I wanted to see if he was just putting on a show. I went back the next night, when he didn’t know I was there, and he worked harder the next night than the first night.

He’s a good umpire.

More important, he’s a good man who feels terrible about all this.

But it’s something you live with. I know what Joyce went through on Wednesday night — there’s always pressure on a umpire, but there’s even more when there’s a no-hitter being pitched.

I was behind the plate for two no-hitters, the first one out in California. I had never seen one in my life, until I called one!

You get to the seventh inning as a plate umpire and you say to yourself, “I don’t want to give this guy anything, but I still don’t want to take nothing away from him.” You’re trying to be as fair as you can with everyone involved.

That’s my message to my umpires — always be fair. Just because you are in Yankee Stadium, don’t do anything you wouldn’t do at Anaheim Stadium. If you make a mistake, you don’t make a makeup call. If you drop a fly ball, you don’t drop another one. Another mistake is not going to help the one you just made. You miss it, you miss it.

I knew Joyce would work the plate yesterday in Detroit. He’ll go back there and take his lumps.

It’s a tough business, but he’s plenty tough.

When I broke in, there were only 40 umpires. It’s the craziest business in the world. You strive to become something, but you don’t want anybody to know what you are doing. You can’t go into a bar and say, “Hey I’m so and so, the umpire.” Next thing you know, you’re going across the floor.

Remember, there is no such thing as home for an umpire. Every three days, we’re in a different city. Every place we go, we are the visitors.

In a 50,000-seat stadium, we’ve got a little dressing room. We go from the car to the dressing room to the car and we then do it all over again.

If they don’t get you today, they’ll bite you on the backside tomorrow. Maybe. As for expanding instant replay, there’s room for that. It wouldn’t hurt, but you have to be careful about it. Do you really want to make a video game out of baseball?

Technology is so great today, it’s just outgrown us. We’re still human beings. Like a player, you are not going to succeed every day. If a player hits three out of 10, you’re doing very good. Our percentage is up in the 90s.

We still haven’t reached that 100 mark because we’re not perfect. I get a kick out of television, they have this box, the K-Zone. I don’t have a box. I have air in front of me.

Like I said, it’s a tough business.