Bad calls happen, although one was hard to take. My son was fencing in the finals of a major A4 competition in New Jersey, the score was 14-14 and he pushed his opponent off the end of the piste. In fencing, that’s a touch and would have ended the bout. But it happened a few seconds before the end of the period, so the ref had his eyes on the clock rather than the piste and didn’t see it. The fencers did, and both stopped fencing because they knew what had happened. The audience saw it. The ref did not, so he didn’t call “halt.”
The period ended a second or two later, and he looked back at the strip and saw everyone, fencers and audience, looking at him. He had no clue why. I then screamed at him that a fencer went off the strip and he missed it because he wasn’t looking. I screamed at him that it was absurd that he would be reffing the final bout and blew the call. I screamed at him. It was the only time I ever screamed at a ref during my son’s time fencing. It did no good. He replied that he didn’t see it so no touch.
My son looked at me with that “but that’s not fair” face. After I stopped screaming, I told my son to shake it off and get the next touch. When the bout resumed, his opponent got the touch and won the competition. My son came in second. It didn’t change his life any, and yet I still feel angry about that non-call, about the ref’s screw up. I know that bad calls happened, and we’ve had many of them both for and against over the years. But this one sticks in my craw.
There is a big problem with getting officials to ref youth sports.
The shortfall has persisted for years, as rowdy parents, coaches and players have created a toxic environment that has driven referees away and hampered the recruitment of new ones, referees say. The pandemic only made things worse: The cancellation of games and entire seasons over the last two years hastened an exodus of older officials who decided that they didn’t want the low pay, angry shouting — or potential infection.
Much as refs may be imperfect, inexperienced or occasionally just plain bad, the game can’t happen without them. And yet, why do it only be screamed at, called names, and, on occasion, struck, for reffing a game?
Most people who do this work say they are not in it for the money, which can range from $35 per game for beginners to $150 for more experienced officials. Many have full-time jobs and make time to officiate games in the evening and on weekends. Addressing youth referees at a symposium over Zoom this year, Gene Steratore, who was an N.F.L. referee for 15 years, said they were “keepers of the game.”
The referees thanked him, but they repeated a common question: How do they deal with the hostility from parents and fans that has pushed so many of their colleagues away?
One doesn’t get to be an “experienced official” until one does her time in the little leagues, gaining the experience, making the mistakes and learning from them. It’s not for the money, as no one gets rich reffing, but for the love of the sport. But the love is unrequited.
“They feel as though they have the right to berate these young officials,” said Chris Rousseau, the supervisor of officials for the New Hampshire Amateur Hockey Association. “In some cases, I’ve watched them make these kids cry.”
The problem is that, as parents spend more time and money on children’s sports, families are “coming to these sporting events with professional-level expectations,” said Jerry Reynolds, a professor of social work at Ball State University who studies the dynamics of youth sports and parent behavior. A 2019 Harris Poll found that one in four parents reported spending about $500 a month on youth sports.
Are they taking youth sports far too seriously? Some may believe their li’l darling is getting into college with a soccer scholarship, which is extremely unlikely. But when they’re nine years old, anything seems possible. And parents are willing to put their money where their mouth is, paying for equipment, travel squads, coaches and special training in the hope that junior will be the next Pele.
Some who haven’t quit, like Tyrek Greene of Dayton, Ohio, are being more selective about the assignments they take. Mr. Greene, 21, recalled working as the referee at a soccer game for 9-year-olds when a mother became upset that he was not calling fouls against her son. He said she got up from the bleachers, walked onto the field and screamed in his face before turning to her son and telling him, “You kick other players too, then!”
“I refuse to do little-kid games just because parents are absurd and they take the game way too extremely,” said Mr. Greene, who has been a referee for five years.
Then again, parents can be overly protective of their children, whether physically or emotionally. Not only is there a pervasive expectation of perceived “fairness” for their child, even if they couldn’t care less about the other children, but the norms against jumping into the fray have dissolved. If the new norm is “silence is complicity,” then why are parents expected to remain silent?
The concern raised is that sports require new inexperienced refs to handle the peewee games as well as gain the experience to make it up to the big leagues some day, and people are quitting, or not reffing, because of the “toxic environment” of being abused by parents and coaches.
Without the ref, there would have been no bout, no competition, no sport. We need refs. We need them at the start of their reffing career and to grow into experienced refs. And we can argue that they ought to be tough enough to take a little screaming (although punching or touching is beyond the pale), but that isn’t going to make anyone choose to become or continue to ref. If we make it miserable, they just won’t do it and then there will be no game.
I wasn’t proud of myself for screaming at the ref when he blew the call in my son’s bout, and I never considered the impact on the ref’s feelings. Maybe I should have. Then again, he shouldn’t have blown the call, but stercus accidit. But if there were no one to ref the bout, there would have been no bout, no competition.
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