Many moon ago, I was a starving freshman college student living in a decrepit dormitory lucky to scrape together enough money so I could join my friends once a week at the Burger Chef directly across from Kent State University's front campus. Most weeks I had the money, but several I didn't--I hated that feeling. Although I had a part-time job working on campus, that money was pretty well spoken for, so my money flow was quite limited until . . . I became interested in becoming a basketball referee. In time, I researched the process of becoming an official, ordered and studied the materials, began focusing on referees' movements rather than the players', passed the required Ohio High School Athletic Association test, and became a licensed official. From that point, another step in my evolution had begun.
Like most players and fans, prior to becoming an official, I had based most of my reactions on how those around me acted. Typically, if a call had gone against my team or the team I was rooting for, I, without hesitation, blamed the official. For years, I had watched the sideline antics of Coach Charlie Huggins as he berated, manipulated, and scolded officials with the intent of getting the crowd to support his viewpoint and intensify the pressure on the men in stripes. Truthfully, most times it worked because it was Charlie--a basketball icon in our valley--doing the yelling. Opposing coaches--in an attempt to get the same breaks that Charlie got--tried to emulate him. Sometimes it worked; most frequently, it didn't. That was my background, so, obviously, I carried that same mentality with me: Officials deserved to be scolded.
When the "shoe is on the other foot," however, we often change our perspectives. As a neophyte official, I had so much to learn, but like any beginner, I carried myself as if I knew far more than I did. Fortunately, in the Portage County League where I began, the league protocol required the varsity officials to bring one JV official with them, and each of the two varsity officials worked one half of the JV game with whomever they brought. I had the opportunity to work with two veterans who basically adopted me during my first two years, helped me get games, taught me the basics of officiating, and pointed out my various weaknesses as well as the few strengths I had at that point in my development. It took my working only a few games before I realized that to be a solid official required far more than I had ever considered when I was sitting in the stands. Strangely, I loved it.
As the years passed, I made enough money to allow me to take spring break vacations; my parents had made it clear they were not paying for any luxury like that. So, I met my first goal: make money. Beyond that, though, I realized that what I was doing was a perfect fit for the teaching and coaching career I was pursuing. In time, I learned to basically tune out as much crowd noise as possible, to identify and ignore coaches who cried and moaned most of the time, to listen to those coaches who demonstrated logic and restraint, and to quasi-understand why crowds--particularly parents--were so rabid in their support and defense of their kids. Most importantly, I learned the rules, something I really had never fully explored. Nothing could be more embarrassing--although it did happen--to be caught in a situation where my ignorance of a particular rule surfaced. In short, it was on-the-job training for the coaching profession I was pursuing.
When I graduated from college, I continued officiating while still coaching freshmen basketball at Newcomerstown High School. As time progressed, though, my passion shifted to coaching, and I ultimately surrendered my officiating license. Unfortunately, the self-imposed pressures of coaching gradually pushed my officiating lessons aside. When coaching--regardless of what level it might be--the coach wants to win, of course. In the process, sometimes that coach may act ridiculously, may scream uncontrollably, and may assume a demeanor that is not his or her true self. If the reader failed to catch it, I just described myself in the earlier stages of my career.
Yes, I had games where I chased the officials from the floor, earned my technical fouls, and felt my blood pressure shoot sky high all in the spirit of trying to win games. Somewhere along the line, though, I began to realize that I was turning into a man who lost his focus while coaching; it took many years for me to accept that I was shortchanging myself and my players because when I would start on the officials, I would drift from my concentration, thus making me not nearly the coach I should have been. I suppose part of it was the dreaded ego, of course, but I increasingly became aware that I was getting sick of hearing my own complaints, which seemed to be the same broken record. In time, I tried to change . . . although I did have relapses where I went nutsy on a few guys! By my career's end, though, I had come full circle--I tolerated the calls, made a few pointed observations, and then shut my mouth . . . and I like to think I became a better coach as a result.
My point is quite simple: Officiating is hard work, far more difficult than sitting in the stands, watching a game, and offering comments. It requires keen vision, intense focus, physical conditioning, communication skills, teamwork, rule book knowledge, invisible ear muffs, confidence, and, most importantly, common sense. Just for a moment, I ask you to look around the gym at the next game and see how many of those people screaming and critiquing possess the characteristics just described. I already know the answer: an extremely small number. Yes, I will be first to admit that like any profession, not every official is on the same level; translated, several are better than others, some far better. No, not everyone can referee; unfortunately, I fear that high school and middle school sports are about to hit a crisis: not enough people are savvy enough to officiate, so the numbers of officials are dropping considerably. I question what will happen when athletic directors cannot get officials for games; my hope is it does not happen, but as numbers drop and teams increase, an officiating shortage is quickly approaching. Then what?
As a former coach and official, I recognize the camaraderie and respect that develop between the two: it is special, make no mistake. At this point in life, I look back at officials I hold in special regard. Retired officials like Larry Gasser, Chuck Rest, Mel McAfee, Sam Fausto, Al Amicone, Roger Levi; deceased officials like Joe Pangrazio and Warren Hood; current officials like Ron Hurst, Buck Corwin, Jimmy Hood, Jim Blickensderfer, Kevin Milligan--these guys and others just like them are ones who may have irritated the hell out of me at various times, but we were on the stage together, willing to expose ourselves to the ridicule of others while earning a respect shared by few. Officials sacrifice so much to pursue a passion, one where money and reputations can be made, yet one where enemies and grudges can also be formed. What we do appreciate, though, is that without them the show cannot go on! As I look back, I miss those interactions, that banter, the dreaded looks, the occasional technical--what fun it was!
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