While reading Linda Flanagan’s book Take Back The Game, I had the idea of revisiting my coaching style from approximately 15 years prior to see if what I preach now aligns with what I did then (as well as to see if I may have adapted or improved).
 
From 2009 through 2012, I coached the local Senior Babe Ruth team in town.  Senior Babe Ruth is the highest division of Babe Ruth Baseball, which is one of the dominant recreational baseball programs in the world (along with Little League).  Normally, this division would act like all the other divisions within a town’s charter:  the kids would be split into equally numbered teams within the town and play each other for the spring season.  However, we only had enough kids for one team, so the local Babe Ruth Commissioner who oversaw all the charters within his district (about the size of our county) implemented an interleague program, allowing us to form the one team and play the teams from other town’s charters (most of whom had the same issue of only having enough players for one team).
 
Senior Babe Ruth was designed for kids ages 16-18 and had stipulations that would allow some kids aged 15 and 19 to also join.  Because most of these kids were teenagers and young adults with other responsibilities (such as school, jobs, and varsity sports), and with the implementation of the interleague program, the Commissioner gave us his blessing to hold our season in the summer.  This worked out quite well because the only other baseball opportunity in town at that time was American Legion Baseball, which was much more competitive, serving more like an extension of a varsity sport that required players to commit to baseball six days per week.  In short, Legion was viewed as the town’s summer varsity team, and Senior Babe Ruth was the JV.
 
One of the biggest advantages of Senior Babe Ruth was that it only required kids to dedicate two or three evenings to the team per week, none of which were Fridays and Saturdays (unless rain or another scenario forced a change to the schedule).  During my four years at the helm, I had a plethora of varsity kids defect from the Legion team because they saw Senior Babe Ruth as equally challenging and fun while lacking the intense commitment of the Legion team.  The advent of media made it possible for kids to be scouted by coaches based on skill, not based on team or reputation; thus, the need to play Legion ball for the resume padding dwindled so long as you were good.
 
I’ll spoil the ending of the story before I get to the real purpose of this post.  We won two championships in four years, both in years where our regular season record was garbage (but everybody makes the playoffs).  The final year was a disaster (that led to my voluntary departure) because our charter’s coordinator felt we had too many kids on our team and should split into two teams.  I vehemently argued against this because I learned something in my first three years coaching that team:  I might start with 20 kids, but I’d be lucky to have 9 for the final game.  Schedules, jobs, vacations, and all sorts of other things created a war of attrition.  Even if I started with 30 kids (like I almost did in that final year), I was confident not just in the pattern to continue, but I was also confident in my ability to be fair and just and make every kid feel appreciated on our team.
 
By the second season of my tenure, I was forcing all my kids and their parents to sign a contract prior to participating.  This was the crux of my reflection because it gave me the foundation of what I enforced while managing that team.  I went back to examine the highlights from the final contract from 2012.
 
I began the contract with an explanation of why I called it “competitive recreational baseball.”  It was recreational because anyone who paid the dues was on the team (while also not requiring the level of commitment as Legion).  But it was competitive because the league rules (which I did not create) stated that we use many high school rules, which meant a traditional starting lineup and specific substitution rules (as opposed to batting everybody and using free substitution).
 
I then gave a list of reasons why people should reconsider signing up for our team:
 
-If they played another sport at the same time (or were on a travel team) where their level of commitment to our team was going to be impacted…
-If they had a job and worked so many hours that they would either miss games or not be ready to play when present…
-If they scheduled a vacation during the season that would require them to miss more than one consecutive game…
-If they didn’t take their responsibility to the team seriously…
-If they had a bad or lethargic attitude…
 
I made this point because I wanted kids and parents to understand that they were making a commitment to a team where the coaches were all volunteering their time.  (During my entire tenure, only once did I have a coach who had a kid on the team.)  If we were going to be there, we expected the kids to be there as well.  It wasn’t about possessing the kids; it was about being respectful to the adults who were not being compensated for coaching a team when they basically had no kids of their own on said team.
 
In hindsight, I probably would have made that point a bit clearer and more vulnerable.  I also would have workshopped wording to note that I am not asking kids to specialize in baseball; I want kids playing multiple sports, but I don’t want them to do that to the detriment of our team.
 
I then discussed the lineup.  We were allowed to start a maximum of ten players per game:  the usual 9 plus either a Designated Hitter (DH) or an Extra Hitter (EH).  I told the players that I would do everything to get every kid in the game, and that the only real thing that would prevent me from doing that would be if the game ended early due to the mercy rule or due to weather.  I also told the kids to be ready to participate in many other ways, such as being a courtesy runner for the pitcher or catcher.
 
Next was a discussion on how attitude and attendance could trump ability.  I wanted to make it clear that the kids who were putting in the effort were going to be rewarded.  This is a principle I use to this day in many different walks of life, such as directing music.
 
The big point came next:  availability.  I wanted kids and parents to know that I understood that not every kid could make every game, but I wanted at least 24 hours’ notice if a kid would miss a game or practice, especially so that I could prepare my lineup!
 
I actually had one kid’s mom (who was an attorney) write in addendums to the contract saying she would only sign it if it was clearly understood that her son would be missing games due to vacations.  That kid did not last more than a season on the team.
 
It's not that I didn’t want the kids to take vacations and spend time with family and friends.  I understood that high school seniors would be going to prom and would be away for the weekend.  In fact, the league schedule was built around the prom schedule!  Once again, it was about the maturity to understand what a commitment truly was, especially when the coaches are not being reimbursed.  And once again, if there was a more vulnerable way to express it or word it, I would have used that.
 
The standard section on ethics and sportsmanship was next.  This was non-negotiable, and I feel like I would continue to enforce it to this day:  no ejections, no hazing, no fighting, no retaliating, etc.  I found myself drawing on this as I wrote the first draft of On Sportsmanship.
 
I discussed the playoffs next.  Because the playoffs were single elimination (until the final round), I made it a point to emphasize that I would manage those games differently.  Playing time would not be equal, as winning would mean advancing and continuing our season.  And yet, I still found ways to get everybody into each game:  in the final game of our championship series in 2011, one of my players forgot his contacts and couldn’t see.  I told him I didn’t feel comfortable letting him play if he couldn’t see the ball.  His response?  “I can run.”  Sure enough, he was used as a pinch runner and scored the winning run to secure the championship.
 
I told parents they had to stay out of the dugout during games and let the coaches do their job.  I told pitchers they needed to adhere to a strict conditioning schedule to protect their arms.  I mentioned that players could not wear spikes in the batting cages.  And I demanded no substance abuse:  none of my players would be allowed to drink, smoke, chew tobacco, etc.  (After all, most were minors.)
 
I took a step back after reviewing this contract to see what I could have done better.  I keep coming back to the same thing:  communication with vulnerability.  It was probably pretty difficult for a kid in his mid-to-late 20’s to manage adolescents and young adults with their parents hovering over them.  I wish I could go back and express my thoughts differently.  But the content of my thoughts and intentions were good, and if my age and inexperience in life were the only things that prevented me from being better (in aggregate), I can sleep at night knowing my moral compass was pointing in the right direction.

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?

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.

Beginning with the 2024-2025 scholastic athletic year, the New Jersey State Interscholastic Athletic Association (NJSIAA), in conjunction with the state’s Department of Education who oversees them, will require all sports officials working high school sporting events to complete a one-time implicit bias course to be eligible to officiate.
 
The requirement is the result of a memorandum of understanding following an incident in late 2018 when Andrew Johnson, a teenage wrestler from New Jersey, was informed during a high school state tournament by referee Alan Maloney that he would be ineligible to wrestle with his dreadlocks intact.  The incident and resulting fallout have gained significant momentum in the public eye for various reasons.
 
For the unattuned, implicit bias (in layman’s terms reflective of this discussion) is the assumption that humans can have subconscious prejudices against certain groups of people which may dictate their actions.  The training in question is supposed to serve the purpose of educating people about this fact, which would cause said prejudices to surface from the subconscious and allow evolved thought to attempt to prevent stereotypical bias from occurring in the future.
 
It is important to note that the purpose of this post is not to argue in favor of or against the validity of the science supporting implicit bias.  Further, the purpose of this post is not to offer commentary on the Johnson-Maloney incident pertaining directly to the motives of the involved parties and the resulting fallout.
 
Rather, the purpose of this post is to examine two explicit arguments that pertain to the incident that are not being addressed because the loudest voices in society have not reported on them.
 
First, the interpretation and the application of rules of NFHS (National Federation of State High School Associations) wrestling as they applied during the season in question were never dissected by the public in a manner that allows any exposition to show up on the first few pages of an Internet search.  High school wrestling rules explain what is legally allowed on the head of a wrestler in terms of hair; at the time, the interpretation of this rule noted that hair should not come down to the length of a normal collared shirt, nor should it have any adornments that could be hard or sharp.  A wrestler could wear an approved hair cover or net that was attached to the wrestler’s headgear if the hair was too long.  (These rules have since been updated as the landscape of wrestling evolved.)
 
Many high school sports have (or had) similar rules due to safety, an equal playing field, and the desire to avoid any potentially litigious situations.  For example, NFHS baseball and softball had jewelry rules that prohibited players from wearing any jewelry unless it was a medical or religious adornment (and those adornments must be taped down to the body and cannot otherwise be a safety issue).  These rules were in stark contrast to the rules that governed Major League Baseball, where any jewelry was permitted unless it was found to be a distraction (such as a diamond earring in the ear of a pitcher that would glisten in the sun as a pitch was being delivered).  As kids are apt to emulate their idols, student-athletes would wear jewelry on the diamond (no pun intended) that ranged from plastic wristbands to the most expensive gold chains, and umpires were informed they had to be the “bad cop” in these situations.  (These rules have since been rescinded and only pertain to whether the jewelry poses a safety risk or contain messages directed negatively towards others.)
 
Regardless of the sport, NFHS rules interpretations (and those further adopted by each state association) would instruct sports officials to enforce these rules.  Officials would simply do their job by adhering to the rules prescribed for their sport(s), but the other parties involved (players, coaches, parents, fans, media) would use this as ammunition to criticize the officials.  The governing bodies rightly assumed that they were protecting players from dangerous situations while also protecting themselves from the throngs of people with itchy trigger fingers waiting to slap a lawsuit on anything that moves the wrong way.  However, they did not foresee these results where an overly sensitive society would react with aggression and vitriol instead of a reasonable request to revisit the subject.
 
One of the biggest evolutions of these interpretations stemmed from the procedure that officials were instructed to use when these situations arose.  When an athlete wore something that would classify as a violation of these rules, the common refrain coming from the official would be, “I’m not saying you have to take it out/off, but you can’t play with it in/on.”  This was a legally approved way to place the responsibility of making the decision on someone other than the official, protecting officials from cases of bias like the one in question.
 
Officials have been conditioned to apply these blanket statements for years.  Prior to most high school athletic contests, officials are required to ask coaches if all participants are “legally and properly equipped and will remain so throughout the duration of the contest.”  This covers items ranging from bats and sticks to protective cups, and it legally releases the officials from liability because the coaches have certified that the players will play by the rules.  Specific to the state of New Jersey (although it is mirrored in many other states), officials must also read a sportsmanship statement to the teams that states “there will be no tolerance” for any unsporting acts related to “race, gender, ethnicity, disability, sexual orientation, or religion.”
 
However, consider the method in which interpretations and protocols are relayed to the officials who are to enforce them.  If we use Major League Baseball as an example, MLB will directly teach changes and updates to the 76 full-time umpires without any middleman.  These umpires (whose livelihood and employment revolve around officiating) have bountiful resources to constantly study and as well as failsafe methods to get the call right (such as being able to call the replay review center for a check of the rules in unique situations).  A lack of execution to follow these rules may result in disciplinary actions or umpires not receiving playoff assignments.  By contrast, if the NFHS has changes and updates, they must teach it to the states; the states then teach it to the chapters; and the chapters teach it to the officials.  (States may also have the option to adopt rules specific to their state, which means that officials must learn both national rules and state rules.)  A lack of execution to follow these rules for high school umpires (who do not umpire full-time) holds nowhere near the consequences that professionals hold.  If it sounds like a giant game of “telephone” where something could go wrong, that’s because it is.
 
A common rebuttal to the realization that these “middlemen” could create the problem is to eliminate them and require the officials to report directly to the state (or other governing body).  The problem is that these officials are not invested in their jobs to the same extent as full-time officials who make their living officiating.  The average local high school umpire who is lucky to make $100 per game is more likely to leave the chapter (and the craft of officiating) and find something else to do than to adhere to the changes.  Eliminating the unnecessary vessels of information and overhauling the system doesn’t present an advantageous cost/benefit ratio yet when the world is already lacking sports officials in all capacities.
 
This predicament begs the question of determining which is more important:  having able bodied humans present to officiate sports (because without officials, it’s just an exhibition or scrimmage) or doing whatever it takes to prevent any potential litigation that stems from a misstep, intended or not?  In other words, in the worst-case scenario, would you rather have an official who doesn’t meet expected standards, or would you rather have no official at all?
 
Circling back to the Johnson-Maloney incident, and considering the above thoughts, it is entirely possible (due to the lack of public information) that Maloney’s response to Johnson’s hair was akin to, “I’m not saying you have to cut your hair, but you can’t wrestle with it as is if you don’t have a legal covering.”  When asked what would happen if Johnson didn’t wrestle, perhaps Maloney cited the rule that the match would be a forfeit, and perhaps he did it in a way that came across as amateur or crass instead of professional or courteous.  It is also entirely possible that Maloney was properly enforcing this interpretation without prejudice, but in doing so, he may have inadvertently highlighted the possibility that every other official assigned to Johnson’s contests throughout the season did not enforce this rule properly for whatever reason.
 
But if that’s the case, then why would all the other officials not enforce this rule on hair length?  Does that mean that the wrestling officials in the state of New Jersey are collectively ignoring a rule?  Did they unionize and band together to protest injustice?  The more likely answer might be one of the following:  that the officials simply didn’t know the interpretation; they were taught incorrectly; or the officials didn’t deem the issue to be as egregious as Maloney did.  In these state tournaments (where the Johnson-Maloney incident occurred), officials from other chapters within the state are frequently used to ensure balance and fairness and eliminate any potential bias.  An official who has never officiated a contest between two schools that season and comes from a different part of the state probably has no bias to see one team defeat another.
 
If it turns out that an entire chapter of officials (a chapter to which Maloney did not belong) were simply unaware of the rule or were incorrectly taught about it, then Maloney was wrongly vilified in a situation where miscommunication is to blame, not bias.  Instead of immediately concluding that Maloney is racist, why wasn’t an investigation launched into why it is so difficult to get rules enforced, regardless of whether they are good or bad?  Or why wasn’t an investigation launched into what other officials had done at Johnson’s prior matches?  Granted, as we may never truly know Maloney’s intentions, we cannot say that these viewpoints are mutually exclusive.  Instead, perhaps we are simply noting that countless possibilities and reasonable doubt exist as to what truly occurred, why it occurred the way it did, and what can be controlled in the future.  If that’s the case, then punishing Maloney and imposing new training on all officials is a gross overreaction and should be replaced with something more appropriate.  (And don’t forget that the most readily available information to the public does not easily provide pertinent information that might be classified as objective; the immediate results of searches for information contain articles and posts, opinionated or not, that either state little or immediately vilify Maloney.)
 
And what of the other people who play the roles in sportsmanship?  If this rule was “on the books” and the interpretation was in fact correct, then why is it that the wrestler, the coach, the parents, the fans, and the media had never heard of this prior?  At the very least, it is the full responsibility of the coach to know this rule and have his wrestler prepare accordingly.  To knowingly ignore this rule is irresponsible, and to not know the rule is ignorant.  When the coach affirms that his wrestlers are legally and properly equipped and will remain so throughout the remainder of the contest, he is stating that the wrestlers will adhere to the rule on hair and releasing the officials from liability.  In fact, many coaches have weaponized the threat of, “No other official has ever enforced that!” to try to gain an advantage, even though officials have enforced rules in question constantly.
 
To mandate implicit bias training because an official applied a rule in a sport when reasonable doubt pertaining to his motive is evident and that ambiguity and/or inconsistency within the confines of the spirit of a rule may exist seems to be a knee-jerk overreaction that forces conformity and “covers the ass” of governing bodies who wish to avoid litigation.  It’s a bandage, not a remedy.
 
The second argument that needs examining is that the demand for officials to take implicit bias training suggests that the NJSIAA (and the powers that oversee them) want to ensure a fair playing field so that no prejudice can affect the outcome of an athletic contest.  (It also doubles down on the fact that they don’t want to be sued.)  However, prioritizing implicit bias in this manner shows that the state does not prioritize a more common bias:  general decency.
 
It is widely (and wrongly) accepted that sports officials are the common enemy among all parties.  The stereotype implies that they are to be equally despised by all competitors, coaches, parents, fans, and media members, regardless of rooting interest or affiliation.  (Just look to social media during televised games to watch the names of the officials start to trend when calls don’t favor one team or appear to be consistently incorrect in the eyes of the unattuned.)  This attitude manifests itself in arguments and other conflicts that create bias, yet has nothing to do with race, gender, ethnicity, disability, sexual orientation, or religion.  In other words, how many times does an official have to be berated by a coach or a fanbase before the official thinks, “I don’t want to do this anymore?”
 
Amateur officials go into contests all the time with implicit biases because of this treatment.  It is a psychological defense mechanism that warns of potential danger.  The little voice in the mind of the official is whispering, “Last time you were here, the coach treated you like garbage.  Be careful.”  But rather than seek to educate players, coaches, parents, fans, and the media on this, the NJSIAA and the State of New Jersey has chosen to prioritize other biases.  It’s like they’re saying the officials don’t matter.
 
Once again, this is learned behavior that emanates from watching idols.  When a Major League Baseball manager gets ejected and gets nose-to-nose with an umpire while seething with heated anger (think the late Earl Weaver of the Baltimore Orioles), it sends a message that this petulant behavior is accepted and expected.  No thought is given as to whether normal mature commoners should act this way; it becomes part of the rote cycle that dictates human behavior.
 
In most cases at the professional level, officials and coaches are taught to put those situations behind them after the game and start anew the next day.  No apologies are warranted, even if the coach, after being ejected, calls the umpire the dirtiest and most insulting names known to man.  The next time they see each other, it’s like it never even happened.
 
Except for one thing:  that’s not normal.
 
What healthy relationship thrives when the parties continue to skirt an issue?  Instead, those relationships deteriorate and can result in situations that were avoidable if vulnerable communication was used.
 
The same applies to the humans who officiate when others treat them so poorly.  It’s no wonder that the number of sports officials in the world is exponentially decreasing:  they’re finally realizing they don’t have to be treated in a particular way and remove themselves from those bad situations and relationships.
 
However, the NJSIAA has determined that keeping lawsuits to a minimum is more important than preserving the number of sports officials actively working.  Mandating implicit bias training has the potential to drive more officials away, especially when the average age of these officials is quite old and correlates to people of a different time and generation who may disagree with the tenets of implicit bias.  That’s not an endorsement of anything:  it’s just reality.
 
There’s an old saying in officiating:  “Do what’s right, not what’s easy.”  Officials are keepers of the flame, charged with the mission of upholding the rules that govern their contests.  They will undoubtedly face conflict when disagreements or unfavorable judgments occur.  They wage moral battles big and small when faced with making the correct call even though it may cause outrage worthy of coverage on the evening news.  They are vilified in the same way that martyrs are:  think of how unpopular Jesus, Ghandi, and Jackie Robinson were when they were on the scene.  But Jesus, Ghandi, and Jackie Robinson are lauded, whereas sports officials are on the receiving end of prejudice.  Maybe the world needs implicit bias training to learn about the proper way to treat officials.

My daughter started playing volleyball three years ago when she began high school; this year, she was fortunate enough to make the varsity team.  I always enjoy watching her play, and I go to her matches as often as possible.  Varsity tends to be a little more intense, as the stakes are seemingly supposed to be higher.  I find myself cheering for my daughter and her teammates in her varsity matches just as I had done in her first two years, encouraging them in a positive manner to do their best.  However, that changed halfway through her first varsity season.
 
A rival school was hosting my daughter's team for a match on a random weekday afternoon.  I attended the match and cheered for her and her teammates as I usually do.  Being that my daughter is one of the taller girls on the team, she plays on the front line quite a bit, making her responsible for defense near the net.  One of my usual utterances of encouragement for my daughter in this position is to shout, "Block, block, block, block, block!" which is what I did as the opposition prepared to set someone for a kill early in the match.  Such an exclamation would probably be akin to what a coach might shout in the same scenario.  It didn’t appear to be negative, intimidating, or threatening.  There was no reference to race, gender, ethnicity, disability, sexual orientation, or religion in anything muttered.  And my intent was certainly not to purposefully disconcert someone, like what basketball fans sitting behind a basket might do while free throws are being shot by the opposing team.  From what I can recall, I have been doing this for as long as my daughter has been playing volleyball, including during her club (non-scholastic) seasons, without any complaints or protests.  At this day's match, however, a player on the opposing team took great exception to my encouraging utterances to the point of tears.
 
The officials stopped the match, and the opposing coach insisted that my daughter's coach tell me to leave the gym.  My immediate reaction, and that of the parents sitting around me, was to ask, "For what?"  Out of respect for my daughter's coach and to avoid embarrassment of being asked to leave, I agreed not to make any further utterances in support of my daughter or her teammates, although I felt like I was being bullied for something that had been normalized over a two-and-a-half-year period.
 
To add insult to injury, the opposing team sent an administrator to stand near me to make sure I stayed in line for the remainder of the game.  I politely asked the administrator if he was sent to make sure I didn't hurt anyone else's feelings.  He gave no reply, perhaps out of embarrassment that he was forced to guard me.  However, one of the opposing players, overhearing my comment to the administrator, started shouting at me, yelling, "Shut up!  You're, like, fifty!"  (I took this as a compliment since I will turn fifty-five next month, so I'll take a five-year haircut off my age anytime.)
 
I admit that these student-athletes are technically children, which can invoke a new set of standards.  However, the lesson I took away from this experience is that the upcoming generations may not be properly prepared to handle the adversity that they will face in the real world.  I was told that my utterances, which I viewed as encouraging for my daughter, were "distracting" and "annoying," not rude or unsportsmanlike.  If that was truly how members of the other team felt, wouldn’t it be a smarter move for the coaches to quietly and politely conference about the situation and choose words properly?  I still may not have agreed with it, but I’m sure my defenses wouldn’t have gone up the same way if my daughter’s coach had approached me in the spirit of compromise after a civil conversation with the other coach and said, “Tom, for today, would you mind toning it down a bit?  That girl is apparently struggling with some personal stuff, and we’d like to show a little empathy as a team.”
 
If we attempt to remove every possible distraction and annoyance from interscholastic competition, how are these student-athletes being prepared for a future filled with those very things?  Yes, outstanding sportsmanship is paramount, but the pendulum can't swing too far in the other direction, or we risk raising a generation of individuals unprepared for the true obstacles one can (and probably will) face.
 

There are moments in nearly every sporting event when a player, coach, or fan encounters a fork in the road.  Do I take the path that allows my emotions to get the best of me and fall victim to a display of poor sportsmanship?  Or do I take the path of discipline and show poise?

There are so many elements surrounding athletic events that we don’t control.  Demonstrating good sportsmanship is a component that lies 100 percent within our control.  When confronted with a situation riddled with turmoil, every coach, player, and parent gets to determine how they will handle their actions.

Let’s take a simple example of when an athlete encounters a fork in the road.  Consider a baseball game where a batter is at the plate with the bases loaded and one out.  It’s late in the game and the batter's team is down by one run.  With a 2-2 count, the batter takes a called strike three.  In that moment, the batter has a decision to make:

1. Walk back to the dugout, put the bat and helmet away, find a seat in the dugout, and look out towards the batter’s box, or,
2. Show bad body language that lets everyone know the batter thinks the umpire is at fault, like yelling something at the ump as the batter returns to the dugout, followed by slamming the bat and helmet in disgust while pacing the dugout and complaining about the call.

Decision 1 is clearly the showcase of good sportsmanship, but it’s also in the best interest of the athlete because it’s smart.  If the batter calmly walks back to the dugout, all eyes in the ballpark will shift to the next hitter.  Decision 2 extends the failed plate appearance, keeping the eyes in the ballpark on that batter.  It’s now not just a strikeout with the bases loaded:  it's also a moment that reflects poorly on the athlete’s character.

Listen, it’s not easy.  Competitive juices are flowing; an opportunity to have a big moment was missed, composed with failure in front of everyone in attendance.  But one must work at it, just like other aspects of the game.  Further, any successful athlete will tell you that the most important play is the next play.  If emotions can't be kept in check, the ability to focus on the next play will suffer.

Teammates will notice.  Opponents will notice.  Coaches will notice.  Game officials will notice.  Recruiters will notice.

Make the decision to become exceptional at sportsmanship.  You’ll not only choose the right path at each fork you encounter, but you’ll begin to take others with you.

Topics like this and more are discussed regularly on How You Play The Game, the official podcast of OSIP.  On January 1, OSIP founder Jack Furlong and chairperson Sean Ryan will produce their 100th episode of the program.  Dale Scott will join them on the podcast, and Furlong will announce the release of his highly anticipated book, On Sportsmanship: A Critical Reader and Handbook.  The mission of the book is to “reveal the steps to ensuring that each person does their best at treating others with respect in sports and competition.”

Tune in to listen to the podcast and also learn more about OSIP at osipfoundation.org.

The National Federation of High Schools (NFHS) is the group that oversees high school athletics in the United States.  One of its biggest issues is the shortage of officials that is plaguing the nation.

Thankfully, NFHS Executive Director Karissa Niehoff sent a blunt message back in January in an editorial titled "Dear Mom and Dad, Cool it."

The numbers are stark.  According to the National Association of Sports Officials (NASO), more than 75% of all high school officials quit due to adult behavior, and 80% of new officials step away after only two years of officiating.

The NFHS has recognized that these sportsmanship issues are growing because the poor behavior is not being controlled.  Verbal and physical abuse is on the rise, so the NFHS hopes to be very direct with their approach.

The question that arises, though, is one of culture.  Is it simply our culture that breeds this type of behavior?  And if so, why?  Are people, specifically coaches and parents, so blind to the fact that losing these officials will ultimately undermine the entire operation to the point of eventually not having high school sports?

One thought offered by Niehoff deals with the administrators taking an active role in this effort.  Athletic Directors may need to divorce themselves from their association with their school and fandom and look to provide a good experience for all, regardless of affiliation.  That means providing extra care for officials, policing fans, and speaking out against media berating.  After all, many state associations overseeing high school athletics prohibit administrators from criticizing officials; do those need penalties need to be amplified?

All in all, the story is summed up properly in this quote from Mark Uyl in the article:  find "one other endeavor in American society where we accept and tolerate one adult treating another adult the way that we allow spectators and coaches to treat an official."

Let me know when you find one that doesn't require a police escort.

The snow in New Jersey throughout March kept me from most of my baseball scrimmages, leaving me all of two games (only one behind the plate) to be ready for the regular season.  However, one play during my final game proved a very important point.

With a runner on first base, the pitcher, while in the stretch, did not come to a complete stop.  My partner correctly ruled it a balk as the pitch was delivered.  The batter, however, swung and lined a base hit through the left side of the infield.  Immediately, I came out from behind the plate and yelled, "TIME!  DEAD BALL!"  The first base coach, however, was already disagreeing with me.  "You have to play that out!  A balk is not a dead ball!"

"Yes it is, coach," I said.  "In NFHS (high school) baseball, a balk is an immediate dead ball."

He immediately dropped his argument, which was amazing, in my opinion.  But my partner took the time to explain it to him.  The runner from first base was advanced to second, and the batter resumed his at-bat.

The conflict that arose is that, in OBR (official baseball rules, which is what MLB uses, as do many other forms of baseball), a balk is a delayed dead ball.  That is, you wait for the play to be over before deciding to enforce the balk.  In the case above, we would have let the play go, then given the offense the option of taking the balk penalty or the result of the play.  However, high school rules do not allow this:  they clearly state that the ball is dead immediately and the balk is enforced.  It's an odd shame when something good happens, though...what if the batter hit a home run?  You guessed it:  I become the bad guy and have to nullify the home run to award the balk penalty.

Sometimes these rules don't make sense.  But it's not my job, as the umpire, to debate the rules.  I just have to enforce them.  Further, the coaches should probably take the time to understand these rules as well.  When offered a high school coaching job, it's not as simple as just teaching the game and leading the team.  You have to understand that there are MAJOR DIFFERENCES between high school sports and other levels of those same sports.

As much as officials do their homework to know these odd rules, coaches need to do the same.  After all, high school athletics are an extension of the classroom.  They are another opportunity to educate student athletes on valuable life lessons.  We, as coaches and officials, owe it to the kids to get it right.