The Other Side of the Game

It's impossible for a basketball referee to get every call right. Attend any game, and you're going to hear people complaining about the mistakes the refs made. Like sprained ankles and missed free-throws, it's just part of the game.

As a youngster, I got to see the other side when I worked as a ref for fifth- and sixth-grade teams. I got yelled at by coaches, parents, and players. I could count on hearing nasty comments during and after each game. Screwed-up faces and looks of disbelief that I could have not seen that foul, or that traveling violation.

As a fan, I've hurled my share of insults at the refs, too. And as a player, I've glared at the refs when they've made "obvious" mistakes.

M.A.L., my fifteen year-old son, is now working as a ref for grade-school games. This week, during and after a game involving 1st- and 2nd-graders, he was on the receiving end of this kind of abuse. Coaches hollering at him. Parents accusing him of blowing the game.

M.A.L. sounded dejected while talking with me about it, but was convinced that he'd called a good game. He said he just ignored the rude comments, but I know he couldn't get them out of his mind.

It's just a game. But, it isn't. Basketball brings out the emotions in people. It's a thing of beauty to watch that ball touch four player's hands, then end up in the hands of a fifth player on the way to an open lay-up. It's sweet when a three-pointer tickles the twines, swishing through.

The way that refs are treated is just plain ugly. Ever think about how they feel? What it's like for them to have their wives or family sitting at the games, listening to all that stuff? What it's like for the guys in stripes after they go home from work?

Ever wonder why they even bother to go back and do it again?

You'd think that the parents of those 1st- and 2nd-graders would have been nice about things. That they'd just enjoy seeing the little kids out there having fun. That the most important thing would be to try to instill a sense of sportsmanship in those kids' minds.

That they'd understand that no referee in the history of the sport has ever gotten it right on every play, and that no teenager working a game for little tykes -- little hobbit hoopsters, barely bigger than the ball -- is going to be the first ref to do it.

You'd think they'd be able to sit back and chill, laugh it off, smile and take the kids out for pizza after the game, go on to more important things.

And not get wound up in a knot over this stuff.

But it's like this at every level of the game, from grade school on up to the NBA. When your team loses, 75% of the blame goes to the referees, if not more. You're going to remember the missed call at the end of the game, not the good calls throughout the game, not the bad ones that went your way, not the bone-headed mistakes that your favorite player made in the first half that put your team behind.

It's almost always the ref's fault. He's the bad guy who wanted your team to lose, who made every call against your kid, who couldn't see a foul on the other team if it bonked him on his nose but who could detect a phantom foul against your kid across court through a mass jumble of moving bodies.

It's really simple, isn't it? Everybody in the stands could see it. Much more clearly than the guy in the stripes out there on the court. Any moron could stick a whistle in his mouth and call a perfect game. It ain't rocket science. You see the infraction, you blow the whistle. Simple.

Right?