With the American election season in the rearview mirror, everyone with a television, a radio, and/or access to the internet can breathe a sigh of relief that the attack ads and political media campaigns will disappear until the next autumn approaches.  It is during this downtime that the science and deception of these unsportsmanlike advertisements can be easily revealed and presented to the public with the hope that better understanding of the process can ease the burdens and the stress of the next year’s cycle.
 
(Before continuing, it is always necessary to remind readers that OSIP does not endorse any political candidate or party, and the views, thoughts, and opinions of those associated with OSIP do not necessarily reflect the organization.)
 
Whether the term “smear campaign” or the term “attack ad” is used is irrelevant.  The purpose of these spots is the same:  use anything in the public forum to twist the truth and make a particular opponent look less desirable.  The tactic is used equally by all sides and all parties; in fact, many political action committees that are not technically associated with specific candidates are using these protocols arguably more than the candidates and their campaigns themselves.
 
The process looks something like this…
 
Candidate X is being interviewed at a public event.  A question is posed by the moderator to the candidate:  “What are your thoughts on how your state’s budget can be better balanced?”
 
The candidate responds:  “I think it’s a complex issue that will require politicians on both sides of the aisle to sit down and discuss what our fiscal priorities should be over the next four years.  I don’t think it’s as simple as demanding we raise your property taxes to bring in more money.  I don’t think it’s as simple as demanding we cut programs like the arts.  I know some states have considered things like a 10% sales tax across the board, but that doesn’t necessarily translate to our state.  I wish I had a more concrete solution, but our previous administrations have had to battle corruption that have left us in a tough and sad situation.”
 
Seems innocent, right?
 
Meanwhile, the people hired by Candidate Y (or the groups and committees that are paid to support Candidate Y) to make Candidate X look less desirable are licking their chops over this answer.  Candidate Y’s team will take the audio clip from this interview and edit it so that soundbites from this interview can be used in different contexts.  Some of those might include:
 
“We raise property taxes to bring in more money.”
 
“We cut programs like the arts.”
 
“A 10% sales tax across the board.”
 
“I wish I had a more concrete solution.”
 
Take a moment to read those small clips outside of the original speech.  It’s easy to see how a lack of context makes these independent lines seem so different than how they were originally used!
 
The team putting together an attack ad against Candidate X can easily create a new ad with these.  A voiceover will narrate while these clips are conveniently interjected:
 
“Think Candidate X is going to save you money if elected?  Think again!  ‘We raise property taxes to bring in more money.’  That’s right, Candidate X said that!  What else could be implemented if that candidate is elected?  ‘A 10% sales tax across the board.’  Are you kidding?  ‘I wish I had a more concrete solution.’  We can’t afford to elect Candidate X!”
 
In a matter of moments, it’s incredibly easy to take an honest and innocent answer given by a candidate and use the audio of the response to formulate an ad that can be used to smear the candidate.
 
From the perspective of this discussion, our consciences might scream about how easy it is to see the farce.  However, in the moment as these ads are aired, most people don’t take the time to question whether a candidate said those words in the context they are being presented.  The reactions that are subconsciously created due to these ads get stored in the psyches of those who hear them, and they gnaw at preconceived notions that people hold.  Rather than helping constituents make informed decisions, the ads try to create a mob mentality that builds conflict in political competition.  Rather than simply cheering for their candidate, they cause rifts in families and relationships while keenly omitting the possibility that honest and open discussion might reveal more common ground than originally thought.
 
Unfortunately, there’s no stopping this.  These ads can’t go away with our freedom of speech.  If Candidate X were to sue for defamation, an attorney could easily argue that the ad in question never said anything that was not true.  Candidate X did say each of the clips used:  there’s no law against implying a potential different context.  And there’s also no law against suggesting opinions.
 
What can we do if we cannot use law to prevent this?  We can empower those who will listen to lead by example.  When the next election approaches and these ads surface again, take the time to ignore them until you can do your own individual and unbiased research to see what the true context of a quote is.  Remember that two things can be true at the same time:  you can still hold your political beliefs and choose to withhold judgment based on these claims until you have had the time to do your own research.

A colleague sent me an article recently that outlined three separate violent incidents in youth sports, all of which occurred on the same Saturday in October in New Jersey.
 
One was on a high school soccer field.  One was on a high school football field.  And one was at a youth football game.
 
As I read it, a frustration began to boil in me.
 
This frustration wasn’t from the incidents.  It wasn’t from the fact that they all happened on the same day in the same state.  It wasn’t any of that.
 
No, the frustration came from the fact that OSIP played no part in the process.
 
Let me explain…
 
Out of every school and athletic director mentioned or interviewed in the article, whether stemming from the incidents directly or simply seeking comment, not even one has ever heard of our organization or has contacted us for help.
 
Out of every person offering quotes for the article, the only person who knew who we were was the sole state assemblywoman we honored at our celebration in 2025.  (She didn’t mention us in the article, but that’s no guarantee that she didn’t mention us and the author simply omitted it.)
 
Surprise:  the author never mentioned us.
 
The purpose of the article was to shed light on these incidents and the growing problem in sports.  We’ve all heard the stories.  We may even have witnessed some of the experiences.  And for every incident referenced in this article, OSIP tried to get involved to help.
 
We got nowhere.
 
The entire ordeal is frustrating because we exist and want to help.  Are our advertising campaigns not working to alert the public of our existence?  Or do people simply not want to include us?
 
After all, the incidents of poor sportsmanship, conflict, and violence are the ones that get the most eyeballs to the television set, not the ones where opponents help each other or where a player and an official share a laugh.
 
So, I must ask:  what is it going to take to get OSIP involved?  What will it take for schools, leagues, and other organizations to realize we have a plethora of resources waiting for them?  What will it take for players, coaches, parents, fans, and the media to consciously decide to invite us into their environment and allow us to assist in making a difference?

I was sitting at the bar at a golf club recently while a golf tournament for kids was being held.  Through innocent eavesdropping, I learned that the company hosting the tournament has held various tournaments for kids of all ages for years, and this course was one of the courses the company constantly used for their tournaments.
 
Further, this company had stepped up their game in how they attracted new kids to play in these tournaments.  Plenty of kids signed up to play on their own, but they were also inviting kids from around the country to play in these tournaments as well.  As I surveyed the kids and their families who were participating, I learned that most families had traveled from different parts of the east coast just to come to my hometown for a few days for a youth golf tournament.
 
The lady who was representing the company made an innocent comment that struck me, though.  She noted that in all the years of these tournaments, not one of their participating kids had ever turned pro.  I looked around again at these kids and their families.  At first, I was a little shocked that not a single kid had found their way to the top of their game.  However, after a moment, that shock was gone.
 
There are plenty of trends and statistics that could be used to examine why this has occurred.  Demographics of ethnicity might be at the top of the list as I noted most of the room was filled with people of Asian and Indian descent.  I could sense that all the parents were overbearing, placing their kids on a pedestal to the point of believing the kids could do no wrong (which was not far from the truth based on the way they treated the waitstaff at the restaurant).  Yet, no matter the reason or the evidence, there was just a simple feeling that transcended this microcosm.
 
When I was young, I firmly believed that I was destined to play Major League Baseball, even if my parents were not as subscribed to that belief as I was.  In hindsight, though, I preferred it that way:  they never pressured me.  They supported me, and they wanted me to shoot for the stars (so long as I had a backup plan).  Not that this statement is meant to be persuasive testimony, but it is through my faith that I reconcile the fact that I was meant to do something more than ascend to the big leagues in baseball.
 
When I look back at that dream now, I might still believe that I could have achieved that goal, but it would have taken some luck solely due to the number of factors that were out of my control.  Reaching the pinnacle of any major sport takes more than just talent.  It also takes more than just being at the right place at the right time.  The way each sport evolves within the values of society is rather unpredictable, and how the sports seek to make a profit will usually stay one step ahead of the evolution of the talent and the next crop of athletes and potential stars.
 
As I digested this, not only did I feel a little better about my life path, but I started to pray that the families at this tournament saw this as well.  Not a single kid in all the years of this tournament had become a professional golfer, and we had no idea if that would change anytime soon.  I wanted these kids to dream that it was possible (if they wanted to dream that), but I really hoped that the parents were simply nothing more than supportive of giving these kids a positive experience, rather than setting a demand for what they must eventually become.

The word “divorce” always evokes some unfortunate memories.  However, let’s take a moment to look at a time when divorce is good for sportsmanship.
 
I have been a fan of the New York Yankees as long as I can remember.  (For reference, I’m 42 years of age while writing this.)  My adolescence occurred while the Yanks were creating their dynasty at the end of the 20th century.  As I became more aware of what was happening, I found myself more attuned to rosters, batting orders, and even jersey numbers.
 
My budding adulthood after college aligned with an expansion in my cable package, allowing me to watch more games.  Spending more time in the car, I listened to them on the radio just as much.  In doing so, the team became a divine idol:  they could do no wrong.
 
Part of the mindset of idolizing a team (or an athlete in general) includes a black-and-white understanding that everyone not wearing that uniform is the enemy, and that includes umpires.  Mind you, this all occurred before I had joined the ranks of the world of officials.  But there were certainly times that I would be yelling at the television much in the same way that players, coaches, fans, and broadcasters would complain about calls.
 
Looking for any sort of income, I wasn’t out of college two years before I had the idea of becoming an umpire.  Now, as I approach my 20th year in the profession, I look back on how my opinions evolved.  The results are astounding:  the umpires are not the enemy, and they never were.
 
Thanks to my career in umpiring, I was able to divorce myself from blind fandom.  Sure, I still watch every Yankees game (or listen to them on the radio or follow them on my phone while working).  Yes, I still listen to sports talk radio and discuss every bad game with my friends.  But I do so without the fanboy mindset that might make me believe the Yankees are infallible.
 
When I watch a game now, I find I’m able to root for the team while also seeing the game from the objective eyes of the umpires.  It’s a peaceful experience because it gives me the best of both worlds:  I can enjoy fandom while also enjoying the pleasure of a simple baseball game, regardless of who is playing!  Does it reduce some of the emotional highs and lows of being a Yankee fan?  Perhaps, but I would argue that said reduction can be a good thing because it allows me to be a rational fan instead of a blind lemming.
 
Here's another benefit:  by eliminating the unhealthy part of my fandom, I have room to be a student of the game, which, in my opinion, is immensely more valuable than being a blind fan.  When the Yanks are done by 10pm in the east, it’s time to switch over to the west coast games!  I’m now glued to baseball of any kind, yet I still have the desire to be a fan of my childhood team.
 
I’m quite thankful for the divorce that removed me from what might be classified as unhealthy fandom.  The simple choice of learning to officiate gave me a deeper appreciation for the game, allowing me to expand my horizons and be entertained by it for more of the calendar year.  The season doesn’t end with the World Series; rather, the conclusion of the World Series allows me to turn my attention to the Arizona Fall League, the Dominican Winter League, the Caribbean World Series, and even the World Baseball Classic when applicable.  I owe all of this to my decision to become an umpire.  And I am still a Yankees fan!

A mother of two was asking me about our organization while attending one of our trivia nights.  She was intrigued by the mission, notably because both of her sons were consistently playing soccer in a multitude of leagues and on a plethora of teams.  Part of my explanation involved the admission that I was a veteran baseball umpire.  And that’s when the tenor changed.
 
This mother was all about sportsmanship, but apparently, her concern was instead about how she didn’t like the officials.  She claimed it was the officials who were the problem with sportsmanship.  Believe me when I say it took another beer to be able to get her to fully explain in a thorough manner why she felt this way.
 
According to her, the issue stemmed from the safety of the children.  In the soccer games she witnessed, her complaint was due to the inconsistency of fouls called based on the dangerous nature of various plays.  She didn’t like the fact that a dangerous slide tackle would result in no call from a referee, but a flop going against the other team would.  In fact, at one point, she accused officials of purposefully favoring one team over another, as if a hidden agenda would dictate which calls would be made.  She felt uncertain in each soccer match about whether her children were safe and if the game would be officiated equally.
 
As I heard her relay these thoughts, my memory took me to a baseball game I had officiated less than a week prior.  A state baseball tournament for 11-year-olds was being held, and I was asked to cover one game on the bases for an official who had a last-minute conflict.  It was an easy and quick game, but I took note of one very important thing during the game:  my partner behind the plate was terrible.
 
I’m sure it could be a shock to some to hear an umpire being critical of another umpire.  Frankly, I prefer to be supportive, even in my critiques, because I want my brethren (as I want myself) to constantly look to improve.  Yet, there are certainly times when I stop and wonder what the hell is happening in the mind of one of my partners.
 
To be clear, my partner wasn’t bad at calling balls and strikes.  His judgments were actually pretty good!  His mechanics were the issue.  He was verbalizing swinging strikes.  He didn’t rotate up to third base (let alone come out from behind the plate for any call he had to make in the outfield).  He even made up his own mechanic consisting of a raised right fist that I eventually determined was a way to signal a foul ball.
 
I felt embarrassed to be on the field with this official, not because he didn’t have the opportunity to improve, but because he was considered a veteran official who was assigned to a game with some level of importance, and he was doing things reserved for inexperienced officials within their first two or three years officiating.
 
Back in the present moment with the soccer mom, I had to think quickly about a response.  On the one hand, I had to convince her that her assessment of officials was wrong.  On the other hand, I knew there were bad officials in the ranks.  What’s the compromise?
 
In short, I split the baby.
 
“Look,” I said.  “In any profession, there are always going to be some who fall short of the mark.  After all, someone had to finish last in a graduating class of medical students!  However, I can assure you that, in general, officials do not aim to be anything other than impartial.  We’re not there to settle a score or to root for one team over another.  We’re there to do a job.  We’re not going to be perfect.  We can’t see everything, and we’re going to miss some calls.  But no official wakes up the morning of a game and is looking forward to the opportunity to blow a call and get in an argument.”
 
The mom’s paused look told me she was looking for a rebuttal.  She gave off a vibe that I was dealing in absolutes, as if I was absolving my fellow officials of all sin.
 
“That being said,” I added, “I would submit that some of the officials you are seeing that have helped you formulate this opinion could have one thing in common.  I would bet that you see a lot of officials who are not properly trained or do not have enough experience, most notably due to the shortage of officials we have.  They are simply given a uniform and thrown on the field so that a warm body can officiate and a game doesn’t have to be canceled.  Perhaps your perception is that these officials are clueless because you expect them to be perfect.  Yet, the fact of the matter is that if you don’t have that person there, you don’t have an official, and you don’t have a game.”
 
She remained silent as she considered my point.
 
“Consider this, too,” I said.  “Out of all the assignments on a given day that must be filled with as many officials as possible, the assignor usually has a good idea of which official should be put on which game based on degree of difficulty, importance, personalities, location, travel, etc.  Again, it’s not absolute…there are plenty of imperfect solutions and situations that arise in this jungle.  I certainly understand that, as you stand on the sidelines watching one of your sons play, you might view your son’s game as incredibly important, but in the context of all the games that day that require coverage, is it not possible that your son’s game might be lower on the totem pole?”
 
She looked like she wanted to finally say something to me.
 
“I’m not saying you haven’t seen some bad officials,” I concluded.  “That would be like saying you’ve never seen a bad doctor, or you’ve never been to a bad restaurant.  But take yourself out of the role of mother for a moment and put yourself in the role of the official or the assignor.  I bet you’d start to see a different perspective that can make you a better parent and a better fan.”
 
The woman finally made a movement as she gulped down the remainder of her beer.
 
“Can I get you another drink?”  I offered.

Every season, the New York Yankees celebrate HOPE Week.  HOPE, which stands for Helping Others Persevere and Excel, was the brainchild of media relations director Jason Zillo; since its inception in 2009, the Yankees have honored plenty of people and organizations for their work while also donating money to various causes.  Players and coaches alike flock to the opportunity to participate in these events so much that other teams have asked the Yankees if they can hold their own HOPE Week.
 
I’ve always wondered if the Yankees would consider OSIP as a charitable organization that could be worthy of recognition in this program.  However, I’m at peace with the fact that our mission of good sportsmanship is probably not one that any professional sports team would honor because of how easy it might be to fall short of the standards and expectations set.  In other words, the Yankees might support our cause one day, but the next day might find a player ejected over an argument that is the complete antithesis of their recent pledge.  On the surface and without a deep dive into the intricacies of the potential relationship, it could be a public relations nightmare.
 
During HOPE Week in 2025, the Yankees had a day game on Thursday against the Angels.  I began to daydream about the possibility that the Yankees might hop on a bus after the game and travel from the Bronx to central New Jersey to come hang out at one of OSIP’s trivia nights.  In doing so, I began to ask myself one question:  what would I say to the Yankees if they actually came?
 
Well, beyond the wide-eyed awe of being in the presence of these athletes, and aside from the immense gratitude and desire to talk about hitting mechanics with someone like Aaron Judge, I allowed myself to follow through with this dream.  I wagered that the exercise would be therapeutic, like an opportunity to codify random thoughts that swirl in one’s head at the strangest times.  And I’m glad I did:  through this exercise, I was able to simply explain how to compete with good sportsmanship.
 
I imagine I would say the following:
 
-Part of good sportsmanship is always remembering how lucky you are to put on the uniform.  Every professional athlete has been given an opportunity that millions of people would kill to have.  Never forget that there is someone out there who wishes to be where you are now.
 
-Remember how to properly balance the elements of athletic competition with entertainment.  Also remember how to properly balance the elements of dedication, drive, and desire with fun.  Keep a smile on your face.  There is no bad break or tough call that cannot be overcome with a short memory and a jump right back into the game.
 
-There are always young and impressionable minds watching you, either in the stands or on television.  Lead by example.  Even if you disagree with something, there are appropriate ways to handle those disagreements in public so as not to set a bad precedent.
 
-When you act inappropriately, you are essentially telling anyone watching that it’s permissible to act that way.  There are kids and parents alike who think they can treat umpires like garbage because they see you do it.  There are teams who think that plunking hitters and causing benches to empty is just “part of the game.”  Do you have the courage to stand up to that and believe that it’s not?
 
-Play hard.  Leave it all out on the field.  Don’t settle for participation trophies.  But none of this should come at the expense of respect, especially of your opponents or officials.
 
-Every human on that field shares one common bond:  you are all in the same game of life together.
 
I have no idea if the Yankees (or if any professional sports team) would actually adopt my words.  They could easily fall on deaf ears.  But that doesn’t eliminate the need to say them.  OSIP will persevere and excel the more these words are spoken.

What if it were proposed that online sports gambling is bad for sportsmanship and bad for competition?      
 
It's not a legalistic argument.  The laws might've opened the door, but for most of us without legal expertise, the laws are not the issue.      
 
It's not a moralistic or a puritanical argument.  Addiction and debt are real, but gambling itself is not the problem, nor is it new.      
 
Most importantly, the argument that online sports gambling is harmful is not an argument that online sports gambling is the most harmful or the most widespread form of addiction.  Uncomfortable though it may be, Americans have shown to average 7+ hours daily with social media and 4+ added hours with screens generally.  One might argue that this could exceed the hours that any screens are needed for business, emergencies, or keeping in touch with family and friends.  Addiction to these screens, instead, is the vast, "hidden in plain sight" addiction that has isolated and torn our society apart in ways that sports gambling can't even if the makers of their websites tried.  And it's this bigger addiction to screens that has turbocharged online sports gambling.     
 
The historian Timothy Snyder explains that the basis of our algorithms is the behaviorist experiments that were done with pigeons and rats in the 20th Century.  The pigeons and rats were given a lever that sometimes contained food and sometimes did not.  What the scientists conducting the experiment found was that the pigeons and rats kept returning to the lever, not understanding the experiment being done to them.  This is social media, which uses the data from our behavior to hook us, by giving us first what we like and then what we fear.  This is the basis of modern advertising, which alternates between seduction and violence, as well as comfort and shock.  And obviously it is the basis of gambling, where the house always wins, but the customer returns for the rare lever that rewards.      
 
But it's more than just the design model:  it's the conditions.  Snyder highlights five ways we are hooked by algorithms and screens.  "Experimental loneliness ... Intermittent reinforcement ... Confirmation bias ... Social conformity ... [and] Cognitive dissonance."  Intermittent reinforcement:  we already explained.  Experimental loneliness is the fact that with the phone, you can gamble from anywhere, at any time, for anything, at any point in the game, without anyone to discourage you.  Confirmation bias is watching sports regularly and forgetting how these gambling websites have intruded, how they are being pushed, and how they were not pushed until relatively recently.  Social conformity is the gambling websites' and sports' leagues ads portraying gambling in a way that's just fun with your friends, just part of being a fan.  And cognitive dissonance is the knowledge that gambling is risky, that you probably can't afford that bet, but screw it, it's fun, everyone's doing it, and heck, you might get rich.      

So again, it is not just the fact that online sports gambling is legal.  It is that college and professional sports leagues have partnered with online sports gambling websites, plastered their jerseys and arenas with their brands, and made deals with the gambling websites that profit the leagues by encouraging fans to separate themselves from their hard-earned money.  When the business model is not just the leagues making money, but tricking fans into thinking that sports can make the fans money even when they do not, the main interest in sports isn't even the tribal appeal of rooting for a team anymore.  It's the nihilistic pursuit of fake money.      

It doesn't breed fans of the team or fans of the game.  It shatters both parts of the "it's not who wins or loses, it's how you play the game."  It's neither.  The sport has been made incidental.  The gambling is the game.  And there are no rules except you give the gambling websites their money.      
 
The gambler thinks they're on offense, but the house guarantees they are on defense.  For the leagues and the fans, it's a strictly financial affair, in a way that makes overpriced luxury boxes seem an exemplar of sportsmanship by comparison.      
 
But "when we see how [these conditions] work, we can escape [their] predictification.  That will require changing the internet, but it will also require doing other things with our bodies than staring at screens.  It is our move." (Excerpts from Timothy Snyder, 101 to 108, On Freedom, 2024.)

Recently, I was having a conversation with an umpire colleague on the subject of “chirping,” defined as the snarky complaints that come from players, coaches, parents, and fans when they don’t agree with a call made by an umpire.  For example, if an umpire calls a pitch a strike that might be borderline outside, the batter may react by looking back at the umpire and saying something akin to, “Come on, that’s off the plate.”
 
The body language and reaction from the player might cue the coach to mimic him.  “Let’s go, Blue!  Tighten that zone up!”  Additional boos and similar comments may then follow from the crowd.  It’s a silly game of mimicry that attempts to send a message of displeasure while also bonding a team and its fanbase.
 
My colleague was making the point that he expects chirping, not just on close calls like the scenario mentioned, but also when he knows he makes a bad call.  This left me puzzled.  “You expect to be berated when you know you make a bad call?”
 
He answered in the affirmative.  This led me into a wild thought process.
 
(As a side note, I should note that I make a conscious choice to try to keep topics such as religion and politics away from the arena of our organization’s mission unless it’s necessary.  In this instance, I determined that there could be validity in making a connection that warrants this introduction.)
 
When I was in seminary, there was a discussion held at one point about topics surrounding atonement theology and the concepts of sin, repentance, guilt, and shame.  Essentially, the question being posed asked why it was accepted and expected that people were supposed to dwell on their mistakes and sinful nature, begging for absolution from the repetitive nature and infinite cycle of sin.  By contrast, we asked why people would not instead try to focus on love and the corresponding happiness and joy.  Granted, this was never an endorsement to abandon introspection and responsibility for mistakes and errors; rather, it was a shift in focus and mindset.  The entire experience was a very enlightening conversation that sparked something of a revolution in my thinking of religion and spirituality, mainly because I was taught that the doctrine of sin was paramount to our understanding of humanity.  After a prolonged dialogue over time within our liturgical team, we all began to naturally seek to uplift ourselves and each other (not to mention our congregation) instead of reminding everyone of their fallen nature.  We found ourselves believing that the joy and love we could emanate might be the panacea for this perpetual depression; tangible instances of what was defined as sin could be reduced thanks to happiness.
 
Could that same revolution happen in our thinking regarding chirping?
 
When I give clinics on sportsmanship to players, coaches, parents, and fans, one of the questions I ask is, “When an umpire makes an incorrect call, who is the first person to know it was an incorrect call?”  A period of silence usually follows until I reveal the answer:
 
The umpire who made the incorrect call!
 
Every umpire worth his/her salt knows in this situation that the call he/she made is not correct.  Inside the mind of that umpire, a showdown is already beginning where the umpire is berating himself/herself for not making the correct call.  When the expectation is that each umpire begins perfectly and then improves, there will always be a natural internal dialogue where the umpire is already upset when he/she cannot live up to the perfect standard.
 
Thus, what is the point of the chirping that comes from the others who disagree with the call?  Is it a human outlet of stress and frustration?  Is it the demand for restitution when one feels wronged?  Or could it be an attempt to reinforce the penalty that an umpire must receive for not being perfect, like receiving penance for sin?  Whatever the reason, one thing is for sure:  it doesn’t help the umpire.
 
Personally, when I know that I had to make a difficult call, or when I realize I made an incorrect call, the last thing I want to hear is anything coming from the dugout or the stands regarding the opinion of others.  It’s certainly not going to change the call (unless it was a misapplication of the rules that can easily be fixed).  Any judgement on ball vs. strike, fair vs. foul, and safe vs. out that I make simply cannot be changed unless something absurd happens (like if I accidentally get blocked out from properly seeing a tag call and another umpire on the field saw something such as the fielder dropping the ball while making the tag).
 
In fact, I remind those in my clinics of something very important:  chirping over a call can make things worse because the umpire may divert attention from the next call due to the obsession and overthinking of the previous call.  It creates a snowball effect that perpetuates missed calls.
 
Granted, the solution may not be to always be positive.  It doesn’t seem fitting that a coach who just suffered an incorrect call would have the ability to shout, “That’s okay, Blue!  We understand, and we’ll support you and help you.  Let’s be positive and try to focus on the next call!”  However, maybe the compromise is just silence.  Maybe the solution is for those who were wronged to bite their tongue and trust that the umpire is going to try to get better.
 
In short, maybe the thinking of humans needs a little revolution.  Maybe a deviation from putting people down and harping on displeasure can be replaced with something positive, or at least neutral.

During the 2025 baseball scrimmage season, I began a new task for my chapter of evaluating my umpire colleagues from the stands.  My job consisted of going to games, sitting in the bleachers, observing the umpires, taking notes, and then submitting reports.  It’s not that bad of a gig to make a little money to watch baseball!
 
On the first day of this new gig, I was sitting in the stands at a local varsity game watching a scrimmage between two parochial schools.  After about fifteen minutes, a father sitting near me (who had been conversing with some other parents near him) turned to me to ask if I was scouting one of the teams.
 
“I’m scouting umpires,” I replied with a smile.
 
“I thought you looked familiar,” he said.  “You’re an umpire, too, right?”
 
“Yes,” I said.
 
“You know where I remember you from?” he asked as I cringed at his poor grammar.
 
“Perhaps an optometrist’s office?” I joked.
 
“Two years ago,” he replied.  “Remember that call you blew against us?”
 
The smile that was on my face from just a simple exchange and my silly joke was gone.
 
I remembered the game in question well.  However, I was not about to go down that road.  I was technically “on the clock” and had a responsibility to represent my organization in public while I did my job.
 
About fifteen minutes later, I had thankfully seen enough of the varsity game and wanted to go watch the junior varsity game.  I wished the fans well and went on my way.  My walk to the other field, though, was not without deep thought.
 
Why would the parent of a teenager still remember one specific play and one specific call in one specific game from two seasons prior?  I’m sure it’s possible the gentleman could have simply had a memory like an encyclopedia and the social skills of a toddler, which explains why he thought it was a good idea to mention it to me in public.  The more likely reason, however, is that this parent was exhibiting something that points to why our mission at OSIP is terribly important.
 
Parents and fans can frequently live so vicariously through their children and their favorite sports teams.  They project themselves onto another person or another entity so strongly that they physically become part of them.  Much like how a fan of a professional sports team might get personally insulted by a call made by an official during a game, a parent can get personally insulted if the same thing occurs in a situation involving their child.
 
In both scenarios, however, the parents and fans neglect one thing:  the sun will still rise tomorrow.  The call made against your kid or your team is not the end of the world.  No official wakes up in the morning with the desire to make a bad call that upsets parents or fans.  There are an infinite number of other things in life that are more important than that one moment in time and that one experience.
 
Why, then, did this parent feel so strongly about this that he had to mention it to me that day?  The possibilities are endless.  Perhaps the pain of that moment was viciously imprinted on his soul.  Perhaps he sought that one opportunity to claim a pound of flesh for something he considered to be an injustice.  Or perhaps the father wanted to demonstrate his status as a wealthy person (since he was probably paying a large sum of money to send his kid to a parochial school) that he felt it was important to let me know that I was a peon compared to him.
 
Regardless of the true reason, the moral of the story remains the same:  sometimes, maybe we should move beyond these moments and see the forest for the trees.

Following the decision that came down from 2021’s NCAA v. Alston, collegiate athletes can now profit from their name, image, and likeness (NIL) as they participate in sports.  This classifies these student athletes as pro-am (professional amateurs) and allows them to earn non-scholarship income across every division of collegiate sports.  The fallout following this decision has left many questions left to be answered, ranging from the tax implications of this earned income to the philosophical question of whether amateur athletics can still exist.
 
Our culture has already had a questionable relationship with collegiate athletics and the concept of student athletes.  Scholastic athletics (at all levels) were designed to be extensions of the classroom and provide a practicum of learning using concepts like competition and teamwork as the catalyst.  Scholarships were offered as compensation for the athletic services of a young athlete; in other words, the school gives the student a free education (and room and board) in return for playing a sport or sports for the institution (and thus growing the reputation of the school thanks to the publicity of having such a talented athlete).  And yet, prior to the opening of the flood gates with NIL monies, fans consumed college sports in ways that went beyond school spirit:  sports like college football and basketball were heavily monetized thanks to the constant national broadcasting of games.  There are now more sponsored college football bowl games than there are teams with winning records.  Media members analyze these games like the participants were veteran professionals and not inexperienced kids.  And the betting and wagering has practically flipped off any remaining statute that claims it is illegal.
 
With this new dynamic in college sports, it’s only a matter of time before society comes to its senses and realizes that the principles of amateur athletics have dissipated into oblivion.  One might imagine that these student athletes pay no attention to their studies or other scholastic responsibilities regarding their education.  But the gun-slinging will get even dirtier once institutions and collectives discover their limitless amounts of money that can be used to persuade a student athlete to transfer from one school to another on the promise of more compensation.  Unlike professional sports, we currently do not have contracts or salary caps to govern the business of these pro-am athletes, especially under the guise of higher education.
 
However, the pinnacle of this monstrosity resides at the top of the individual athletic departments that oversee these programs.  When athletic directors become as boisterous as the rowdy fans in attendance and forget their primary responsibility as the adults who are responsible for the education of these kids, it’s easy to see how college athletics have fully mutated into a bastardized minor league affiliate for the professional sports they feed.
 
Take Mark Harlan as an example.  The athletic director at the University of Utah, he came under fire when he made public comments about the officiating during a football game between Utah and BYU at the end of 2024.  The comments referenced how Utah’s loss was the result of the game being “stolen” due to calls made by the officials.  The Big 12 promptly fined Harlan $40,000 for his remarks.
 
A few months later, Kirby Hocutt became the next poster child.  The athletic director at Texas Tech, he made public comments about the officials’ decision to eject one of his star players from a basketball game due to a flagrant foul that did not appear to be intentional.  Hocutt’s comments did not appear to be as demonstrative as Harlan’s, which explains why there was no news regarding a hefty fine.  However, it doesn’t negate the fact that Hocutt felt it was necessary to make public comments about a call in a college basketball game that could have been kept private instead of looking to discredit the officials in the game.  (By the way, he made the comments publicly while the game was still happening.)
 
The question is not whether the person at the top of the hierarchy can hold or express an opinion normally reserved for a fan.  The question instead concerns the fact that the people at the top of the hierarchy might have forgotten their prime responsibility in the equation:  to steward the education of student athletes through the medium of sports, and thus setting the example for the players, coaches, parents, and fans to do the same.  Sports at all levels and in all forms come with tough breaks, and the lessons to be learned from them concern the athlete’s ability to overcome them, not to complain about them.  It’s no coincidence that the athletic directors have resorted to this behavior in a culture where the money in college sports has become weaponized.  After all, maybe a star athlete would be easily persuaded to take more money at another school if his ego gets hurt when the athletic director tells the student athlete to respect the officials, the coaches, and the other adults in the room.
 
Obviously, these two examples are not the sole times that athletic directors at colleges have spouted off in ways that draw negative attention or fines.  But they are two very recent examples in a world where college sports have become a new business filled with potential mercenaries.  In a capitalist society where social influencers, athletes, and other celebrities can (and have the right to) garner more attention and wealth than the hard-working people who grind each day to earn a living and provide for families, the least these administrators can do is temper their overzealous fandom and put their blessings in perspective.  However, the opposite may be more disastrous:  not acting inappropriately could result in the loss of future stars, sponsorship monies, and one’s job.
 
What’s more important:  the morals or the money?