After 20 years of refereeing basketball, the job becomes easier. Fouls and violations are spotted readily. You know where to position yourself and what to look for in most situations. You develop confidence in dealing effectively with players and coaches. You’ve seen just about everything.
Still, there are evenings when I don the black-and-white stripes that I feel I’m the object of a junior high prank, as if a “Kick Me’’ sign is stuck to my back.
Fans insist they know the rules better than the officials. Coaches question your judgment. Players wear the expressions of Premier League soccer stars rising from the turf after a phantom foul. Parents catcall. The younger the players’ ages, the more impassioned are the parents.
This happens with regularity when you work 4-5 games per week from middle school boys and girls up through varsity. You can’t escape the ref tag even when you’re playing. Routinely I become the arbiter — “Let’s ask the ref.’’
I got a chuckle last Saturday during my pickup game. The fit 30-something rose for a perimeter shot, lost the ball in mid-air, landed, took two steps, and batted the ball to me. I fired a shot and watched it swish (always good for the ego). It was the kill shot in a tight game.
One guy protested: “That‘s got to be a travel.’’
“Actually,’’ I informed him, “it’s a fumble. You’re allowed to retrieve a fumble. No travel. Count the goal.’’
His response: “Man, I hope you never ref one of my games. You are the most crooked ref ever.’’
His verbal shot, though intended to be funny, was an airball. But it’s typical of the junk you hear from fans, players and sometimes coaches. High school seasons are dragging into their fourth month, won-loss records are backsliding, and patience is eroding. When things don’t go your way, blame the referees. My three-mornings-per-week game at the YMCA is no exception.
Jake (the name was changed to protect the guilty) dribbles to the hoop, lowers a shoulder and drives his defender out of his path. Clearly, an offensive foul but no call was made. I let him know he couldn’t get away with that in a real game. “No way,’’ he insists. “You’re wrong.’’
A teammate’s shot bounds over the plane of the backboard. “Jimmy, it’s your favorite call!’’ teases Dan. I point in the opposite direction. Then I have to stop and explain to a disbelieving teammate who responds, “I never knew that.’’
My favorite was the know-it-all who told me he had been playing for 30 years, knew a lot about basketball, but had never heard of a certain rule.
“You’re just flat out wrong,’’ said the doubting Thomas, shaking his head.
“Sorry,” I replied. “You haven’t read the rulebook and studied for the test for the past 20 years.’’
This high school season has been quiet. There will always be a grandmother yelling “three seconds” who doesn’t know the rule, but I’ve only had two crazy situations. One coach substituted his five weakest players with a 20-point lead at the start of the fourth quarter. Within three minutes, the lead had dwindled to 9.
“All the starters back in!’’ he declared. The trouble was one starter had fouled out in the third quarter. When she re-entered the game, it resulted in a technical foul, two free throws and possession at midcourt. The lead was cut to 7, but that was close as the game got.
Another team wasn’t so lucky during a close game. The assistant coach began complaining about fouls when she was reminded that only one voice – the head coach – would be heard from the bench. The assistant blew through that stop sign and continued ripping the refs. We were incompetent, biased and unfair. That unsportsmanlike talk earned her a T. She kept chirping – second T. Not only was she disqualified from that game, by rule she couldn’t coach the next one.
Skilled refs don’t resemble World War I flying aces. They don’t inscribe notches on their whistles. Technical fouls simply are a tool to control games and enforce rules for bench decorum. The job requires you to remain calm and corral runaway coaches, players and fans.
It doesn’t matter if you’re in Section V or Section X, you can’t make up the scenarios refs endure. I consulted Section X refereeing icon Tom Luckie Jr. from Ogdensburg’s First Family of Officials. Tom began working games in 1980, spent eight seasons at Division III, 17 as the Section X assigner, then retired to boys and girls modified games along with some varsity girls games. His brother Jamie just retired from working Atlantic Coast Conference games after working 20 NCAA Tournaments and three Final Fours.
Tom recalled a story that he and Doug Loffler can look back and laugh at today.
“I was officiating Lisbon at Edwards in the old Edwards gym where the wall was out of bounds. Doug Loffler was the head coach for Lisbon and a few years earlier my brother, Jamie, and I were both working for him when he was the Ogdensburg City Rec director.’’
“Doug could get a little wound up when coaching, and the game before, when I had him in Edwards, Jamie had to T him. Well, he was really going after my younger partner in Edwards and I had to T him too.’’
“As I’m administering the first technical, (Doug) yells out:, ‘You have rabbit ears, just like your brother.’ Of course. I had to T him again for my brother (back then it was three for ejection). Jamie had to help Doug with sportsmanship throughout his career.’’
Refs don’t care who wins; they just want to call a game accurately and consistently from end to end. But they love to tell stories – usually over a beverage – about odd rules situations and crazy player behavior.
I’ll be gathering for a weekend dinner with the local Irish Mafia – our daughters all played high school basketball together. One Mafia member is the high school lacrosse assigner who recruited me 15 years ago. By coincidence, our first lacrosse refs meeting will be this week. You can imagine what we’ll be talking about.
Morristown native Jim Holleran is a retired teacher and sports editor from Rochester. Reach him at jimholleran29@gmail.com or view past columns under “Reflections of River Rat’’ at https://hollerangetsitwrite.com/blog/
Holleran Gets It Write 