Refereeing the lightning-quick game of basketball is a demanding job, as this rookie discovers.
By TIM GRANT
© St. Petersburg Times, published February 1, 2001
TAMPA -- With less than 15 minutes before game time my heart is thumping so hard I can feel it in my throat.
I'm on the basketball court at Sickles High School, facing the scorer's table. In front of me, the Sickles and Durant High School girls junior varsity teams are shooting warmups to the beat of loud pop music and the buzz of the crowd filling the bleachers.
The players and fans are thinking about who will win, who will lose. Me, I'm trying to memorize which team will go in which direction in the first half. Sickles right. Durant left.
While running around in other games, I've lost my bearings and given the ball to the wrong team. The scorer's table I'm facing will be my lighthouse in the fog of any confusion I might have tonight.
I am the referee, and a brand new one at that.
You learn a lot when you become a referee.
I've learned I'm not in as good a shape as I thought I was, and that high school JV basketball can be as vicious as a Texas cage match. Also, that being a ref looks a lot easier from the stands than it does at the free throw line.
Really, I'm the last person you would expect to be refereeing basketball. I never played organized ball or even watched it with any critical eye for rules and procedure.
So how did I get here?
In my job as a reporter I happened to interview an IBM consultant who's also a basketball referee. During our conversation, he invited me to join the West Coast Officials Association in Hillsborough County.
The idea brought my tired senses to life. Refereeing would be something new. I could have fun, get some exercise, learn a new skill and make about $30 a game.
As a rookie referee, I went through weeks of classroom training and read the standard high school basketball rule book in the weary hours after long days at work. We had some field clinics and took a required rules test administered by the Florida High School Activities Association.
Getting on the court was another story. My first time out I was afraid to blow my whistle because I knew everyone would look at me and everything would stop until I did something. I remember wanting to dash off the court, get in my car and leave basketball behind forever.
Things didn't get any easier that day. At one point the home coach got so disgusted she threw the game ball at me. I caught it. I wanted to throw her out of the game or at least call a technical foul, but I was so green I thought I'd screw that up, too. I wasn't sure how to actually do it.
I confronted her anyway. My partner had to pull me back, saying, "Never argue with a coach." I don't know which was more embarrassing -- letting her get away with what she did or allowing the players and fans to see me bickering with her.
Finishing that 32-minute ball game is one of the bravest things I've done.
Since then, I've made bad calls and missed violations that a veteran might have caught. I've endured the wrath of booing fans. I have made decisions I knew instantly were wrong -- and became a prisoner of those decisions because I thought I would look even worse if I changed them.
But mostly I have made good calls. And as my skill improved, so has my confidence, and my ability to have fun.
Now I'm on the razor's edge of another game. Sickles vs. Durant, my eighth outing as a ref.
As the teams warm up, spectators watch with a keen eye for who has the smoothest moves and who is making the most jump shots.
I don't care who can or can't shoot. I'm trying to count the players, match that number with the score books and make sure no one is wearing jewelry or has any hard objects in her hair. I really don't care which team wins or what their records are. When this game is done, I may or may not be able to tell my friends who won.
The pregame clock has ticked down to 2 minutes. My partner, Irene Canino, is at center court ready for the toss. I'm at the sidelines ready to signal the start of the clock at the tap of the ball, and I can't help but wonder what new rule that I haven't encountered before might pop up tonight.
Will I repeat old mistakes or commit new ones? Will an error of mine cost one team the game?
With one minute left, I try to swallow the lump in my throat. I kneel down so that it looks like I am stretching, but I'm really saying a silent prayer.
The anticipation was the worst part.
I found my confidence the first time the ball went out of bounds. I blew my whistle, pointed which way the ball would go and administered the throw-in.
That was all it took. I was in the groove, watching the players and my partner. Irene, who is in her third year, is one of only three women in the 150-member association. It's our first time together.
We consider ourselves a third team on the court. If I say the shooter was fouled going to the basket, she tells me whether the shot went in. We rotate on dead balls. If my hand is up during a dead ball, she holds the ball until my hand goes down.
To us, the court is carved like a map, with each of us responsible for an area depending on where we are. Now that I have a little experience, it bugs me when a partner makes a call in my area. Even if he or she is right, it makes us both look bad.
Irene and I agreed we wouldn't do that, but despite our good intentions, it happened twice.
Early in this game, when the ball went out of bounds in my area, I gave the ball to one team while she pointed for the other. Behind me I heard a player say, "They don't even know. They're pointing in different directions."
Irene might have been right. Maybe we should have consulted. But I went with my call.
Another time, a Durant player made a jump shot in Irene's area from close to the three-point line. As I ran past the scorer's table, he asked me whether the shot was a three-pointer.
I should have said I didn't know but instead said, "Yes." Well, it was Irene's call and she ruled that it was a two-pointer. After a few awkward moments, we deducted the point I'd awarded and resumed play.
JV games -- especially those involving girls -- are challenging because there are so many violations we have to choose which ones to call. The girls in the Sickles-Durant game were slapping and scratching for the ball like it was Ricky Martin in tight pants.
Irene and I called lots of fouls from the start, hoping to slow down the action, but the game still looked like a pro wrestling match.
By halftime, Sickles held a commanding lead over Durant, so I was looking for more opportunities to call fouls on Sickles. I know some might take issue with that, but there was a 20-point difference in the score, and I thought it was the right thing to do.
Things got so bad that one Durant player tried to spook a Sickles shooter by wiggling her fingers and making a haunted house noise. I had to laugh.
Throughout the game, I could hear the coaches say things like "travel," "that's a foul" and "double dribble." Though we've been taught not to look away from the court, I'll admit I've been influenced to make calls on occasions when I might not have.
It's a fast game. There's no way to see everything.
By the fourth quarter, I was exhausted and starting to fall behind on some runbacks. Besides, I had a sore left leg and was running with a slight limp. A friend who was watching the game called it "loping."
Still, it was a thrill to be on that court with kids half my age, playing a key role in a sport I'd be ill-equipped to compete in.
As a reporter I have the luxury of reflecting, analyzing, rewriting and being edited before my articles appear in print. And, like most people, my attention sometimes drifts when I'm at work.
There's no opportunity to daydream when I'm refereeing. When I'm on the court I have to make quick decisions. Like the stripes on my jersey, the decisions are either black or white. Either the ball goes to the left or the right. Either it's a foul or it's not. The basket counts or it doesn't.
So why have I kept refereeing? Why didn't I retire my whistle after that miserable first game?
It's the thrill of stepping outside my comfort zone, risking failure or achieving success. It's the feeling of power that comes with blowing the whistle and calling the shots. It's the respect that comes with wearing the referee stripes. And it's really my best chance to work with kids and help teach them life lessons like respect for authority and playing by the rules.
Part of it is simply a desire to recoup my financial investment in uniforms and fees.
But most of all, when the game is close and I'm doing my job right, I relish the sound of cheering fans as much as the players do.