There are more than a few thankless jobs out there...garbage man, horse poop shoveler, fast food cook, and sports official. I have been lucky enough to not have been any of the above, except for the sports official. It truly is a thankless job. You blow the whistle, make the calls, change the score...nobody ever says, "Great call, blue!! You really saw that play!"
Don't get me wrong, I would rather blow a whistle than scoop poop any day of the week.
I began my annual Women's Volleyball league officiating in the Burg last Monday. Fun stuff. I'm not complaining, because I love having the paycheck when it's all over to go Christmas shopping with, but let me tell you...it's not as easy as it looks.
To most, officiating looks like a dork on a ladder, blowing his whistle merrily. That's also what I look like. It's better when nobody sees you, however. That means you are doing a good job. When people start giving you the evil eye...you know you're in for a long day.
The worst officiating gig that I ever had was at a tournament in Milan.
The day had been going rather well...that is, nothing out of the norm. I was officiating a group of 12-13 year old girls, and soon found that blowing the whistle for serve, and blowing the whistle when that serve went into the net were about the only calls I had to make. Easy money...or so I thought. One of the last matches of the day pitted two really good teams in a very crutial match. I had to make sure things went smoothly, or I knew trouble would follow.
The first game (of three) went rather smoothly, as did the second. Then, the third game came and all hell broke loose. Up to that point, I had adopted the "call only the obvious" plays mentality. Well, there is one problem with that mentality. If you get in the zone of not making calls, you get slow on the whistle...and make either late calls or you miss the call all together.
Which is worse? I'm not really sure, but I do know this...I did both. First, a spike dribbled down the front of the opposing team's middle blocker. She obviously scooped the ball up to her teammate, who then set a hitter before I unswallowed my whistle to call the first girl for a lift.
First mistake.
The crowd booed. The coaches screamed. The girls...well, they didn't say much. 12 year old girls usually leave you alone when you're reffing, it's the coaches and the parents that blow you shit. I shook it off and started to concentrate even more. A couple of plays later, the ball floated towards the end line on the serve. I was 90% sure the ball was out, but I looked to my line judge to see for sure. Of course, 12 year old Suzy down on the line was twirling her gum, or doing a cartwheel or whatever 12 year olds do. When she realized I was looking at her to make the call, she called in. Of course, I knew it wasn't in, so I called out, thus overruling poor Suzy.
The crowd exploded. "She called it in, you moron!!" "I can't believe this!!" And similar taunts came from the crowd. The coach looked up at me and pointed to the line judge. I looked back and motioned "out". The coah rolled her eyes and made back to the bench. Now, the mob is stirring. Don't mess up anymore, Tony, or you're dead.
Death came soon. The game was close. Real close. Thisclose. That's when the game is the worst. Both teams needed to win. The game was nearing it's conclusion, and, as a ref, you try not to make any petty calls that will lose the game for one team. Calls like foot faults, or rotation violations.
The ball was served. The pass came up. The setter made a break for the ball, and it happened. When the setter put her hands on the ball, it caught only her fingers and came spinning backwards from her hands, spinning right-round baby, right-round, like a record, baby! What do I do? I only have a split second to make the call.
1. Blow the whistle and call a lift.
2. Blow the whistle and call a double contact.
3. Don't blow the whistle.
Well, in my split second, I decided to swallow the whistle and let the play continue. The setter was shocked, her hitter was shocked, the other team was shocked...ok, you know where this is going, everybody was shocked. The hitter made a smack at the ball, and it crossed the net and fell for a point because everybody pretty muched stopped playing, waiting for the whistle.
The crowd was livid!! So was the coach. The eye rolling coach. She came to me and started screaming at me.
"ARE YOU KIDDING ME!!" I motioned for her to get back.
"SHE BUTCHERED THAT BALL, COME ON!! I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'RE NOT GONNA CALL THAT." Again, I took the high road.
"JESUS, I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS." I ignored her, and she went away. Over the next two plays, her team lost. I stepped down off the ladder, and expected the worst as the Rolly-eyed coach made towards me.
"I'm sorry for that," she began. "It's not your fault, my girls shouldn't have stopped playing. I'm sorry."
I accepted the apology and felt like it was all over. Then, along comes a parent. I know what you're thinking...a parent of the losing team. You would be wrong. It was a mom off of the WINNING team. Again, you're probably thinking...she's going to defend you. Wrong again (man, you really aren't very good at this, are you?!?)
She comes up and starts yelling at me because I didn't stop the coach from yelling at me when I was on the ladder!! Can you believe this? Getting yelled at, for getting yelled at. I tried to be polite, but she kept yelling at me. Finally, I had enough.
"Look, I get up there and do the best I can, I didn't need her yelling at me, and I sure don't need you yelling at me."
Yelled at for getting yelled at. It just doesn't get any worse than that. Parents and other crowd members taunted me the rest of the tournament. I even had to get a couple of rowdy kids removed from the gym...that didn't help the reputation any, let me tell you. In the end, I jumped off the stand, collected my pay, and made for the door. It was the last Milan tourney I ever reffed.
I think I'll stick to Women's League in the 'Burg...evil eyes trump screaming moms any day!!
No comments:
Post a Comment