March 31, 1998
'I'm here for the kids'
Officials endure long season, jeers for sake of players
By Eric Dick
Herald editor
March Madness means basketball and thousands of near rabid fans. It means electrifying moments and last-minute shots that hang in the air, teasing the nerves of every breathless onlooker. It means drama and tension thick enough to dull the blade of a Ginsu knife.
It also means some poor soul in a black-and-white striped shirt faces a full-court press between a rock and a hard place.
"You like to please everybody, right. But the thing is, every time you make a call, 50 percent of the people think you're wrong," said Tom Post, a high school basketball official for the last 15 years.
Basketball fans have expressed their disagreement with 16-year official Barb Beckett by sliding a pair of eyeglasses and a rule book out on the court floor.
"I've been called every name in the book," she said, "every name they can call a male official and I've probably had a few they couldn't call a male official."
High school basketball may lack the effervescent sportsmanship of the Bobby Knights of the world, but its officials seem gluttons for punishment, just the same.
And for what? $30 per game. Maybe $45. Then there is the travel time, the time away from the family, and the time devoted to staying abreast of the game.
Why? Why be a referee?
"I'm here for the kids," explained Joe LeMieux, a 15-year official and former Traverse City Trojans varsity boys basketball coach. "I'm not here for the coaches, I'm not here for the adults, I'm not here for the athletic director. It's for the kids."
Without officials, quite simply, there are no games. There is no champion. The month of March would only mean the start of spring. Big deal.
So for the children's sake, officials give up their time and their sensitivity.
Basketball dribbles down the veins of Joe LeMieux. A former forward for St. Bernard College in Cullman, Ala., the 52-year-old Traverse Heights elementary physical education teacher now officiates about three games a week, from the end of August to the end of March. That's more than 80 games per year, he figures, with about 1,500 miles traveled and about $8 an hour earned.
"You gotta love the sport," he explained.
LeMieux is still a student of the game. As an affiliate of the 22-member Northern Sports Officials Association, he routinely brushes up on his officiating skills. He reads Referee magazine; "It's like a little bible," he said.
"You just don't go out there and say, 'Here I am!.' The preparation before you even step on the court is important," he said.
Before tip-off of each game, he meets with the other officials and coaches for what he calls "preventive officiating." He explains, in essence, how he enforces the rules, thus hoping to avoid any problems.
"You nip it in the bud before it really escalates," he said. "My job as an official is to be a facilitator out on the courts. It's not my game; it's a kid's game."
Still, for a wintertime sport such as basketball, cabin fever can emancipate itself from fans during critical moments of a game, he said. "Who are they going to take it out on? There's a guy or a gal there in a striped shirt."
Sometimes that fever boils, especially when the games carry more prestige, he said.
"To me, high school sports brings out the worst in adults," LeMieux said. "It's not life or death; it's a game."
LeMieux's antidote for unruly fan behavior is a simple one: benevolence. "I go out there and kill them with kindness," he said. "If I go out there with a smile always on my face, how can you get mad at that?"
The time he quits smiling, he said, is the time he walks off the court - permanently.
All officials, or officials that last more than a year or so anyway, cope with spectator jeers in various ways.
Tom Post seems to thrive on criticism. A physical education teacher and athletic director at Traverse City East Junior High, Post said he mentally shuts out the rude remarks. Some slip by, and that's OK.
"It is amazing what's being mumbled. What's being directed and what's being yelled at you is sometimes unbelievable," he said. "But that's what makes it fun; you never know what to expect."
After 26 years of officiating, he still looks forward to tip-off each night. He takes pride in his work and enjoys the satisfaction of knowing he has made the right call at a critical time, he said.
"And you're in there for the kids, the players," he said. "Just like we want our kids to have good coaching, we want them to have good officiating, too."
Official Barb Beckett blocks out criticism as well. Jeers distract from what is occurring on the court, she said.
"The ones that last," she said of officials, "are the ones that can let that go in one ear and out the other."
Problem is, many officials do not last. Athletic programs in northwestern Michigan face a shortage of referees, officials say.
Apparently, the working conditions - long nights, long seasons, average pay, constant criticism - fail to elicit much interest from either job seekers or basketball fans.
"It does take a lot of time away from family. There's no question about it," said Dick Simon, whose officiating jobs in basketball, football, volleyball and softball keep him immersed in sport nearly year-round. "I can easily go 13 or 14 days straight with a game every night, and that can tire you out."
Compounding matters is the on-the-court job review, entirely public and often less than forgiving.
"There's no doubt about that this is a learning-experience occupation, and that learning experience can be tough," said Simon, a cherry cooperative quality control manager who began officiating in 1975.
"When you're talking about officials, you're only as good as your last blown call," he said.
Despite the potential for such a hostile workplace, many officials, once involved, continue on for years.
"I (first) umpired a softball tournament and probably did a terrible job and loved every minute of it and I was hooked from there on," Simon said, adding later, "You've got to have a great sense of humor to stick with it this long."
Officials say they enjoy the thrill of having to make The Big Call. They enjoy the challenge of understanding complicated rules and making split-second decisions. They enjoy making the games a better contest for the children.
"It's hard," LeMieux the former coach now referee said, "but it's almost like riding a bike. The more you ride the easier it gets. ... It's been a nice ride."