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.

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?

In the spring of 2024, a colleague handed me a book entitled “Good Sports,” published about ten years before the turn of the century and written by the late Rick Wolff, a sports psychologist who many in the greater New York area would recognize from his radio program on WFAN.  While reading the book, Wolff referenced Mel Narol, an attorney from Princeton, NJ, whose specialty was representing sports officials who were assaulted on the field.  Seeing how OSIP’s home is just outside Princeton, I took it upon myself to learn more about Narol.
 
Unfortunately, I learned that Narol passed away in 2002 at the age of 51 from a heart attack.  He is buried in a cemetery in my hometown.  I tried to reach out to his daughter who is around my age and attended a private school near my public high school, but the lead went cold.  I had hoped to interview his daughter or some of his colleagues on our podcast to learn more about him.
 
Narol championed a large list of professional accomplishments.  He officiated basketball and served as legal counsel to collegiate athletic conferences while also teaching collegiate law.  He was highly involved with the National Associated of Sports Officials and wrote for Referee Magazine.
 
The law firm where Narol worked was a local one that had sponsored teams in my youth baseball league when I was young.  At the time, the name of that team was just a passing sound of names that happened to represent a company of lawyers who appeared no differently than all the other lawyers in the area.  Little did I know years later that I had been in the presence of the name of the firm that employed a man who would be so crucial to my desire to see aid given to assault victims who simply wanted to officiate an athletic competition.
 
Why did Narol do what he did?  And why was it so important for him to do so?  I began to ask myself these questions and pretend that I could answer them on his behalf.  I started with the obvious:  if you’re a lawyer, you’re probably practicing law in some capacity to earn a living.  But a man who has such a love of sports and officiating probably saw an opportunity to combine his passions and make an immense difference, especially when innocent people are wronged by the physical assaults of others stemming from a youth athletic contest.  From there, word of mouth and a media presence probably accelerated things, turning Narol into the go-to for these victims.  It may not be a glamorous rise to stardom, but it is a path to becoming a respected professional and important member of society.
 
There’s something trite about the archetype of a mystery where an investigator digs deep into the past of someone deceased looking for information or answers about why something occurred.  I felt like I was living that plot while constantly searching for information about Narol, but I knew I wasn’t trying to solve a mystery.  Instead, I just wanted to learn more about him and his work, like a student who becomes obsessed with a historical figure.
 
There was no ‘whodunnit’ payoff on this journey.  Rather, by the time I composed this post, I was left with an emptiness of regret that the opportunity to know this man had passed many years prior.  I wondered if the people I sought wanted privacy, as if I had opened an old wound; the possibility of that left me with guilt, as it was not my intention to do so.  I wondered if those people didn’t take me seriously, like the work of our organization was not a battle worth fighting anymore.  It was more than likely that life just got busy for these people.  Even so, however, I was left with questions, not answers…and many of those questions lacked the ability to even be formed.
 
I’m not sure it’s appropriate to call the words of this submission an obituary or a eulogy.  I’m also not sure that anything I can say here does this man or his work justice.  I just wish Mel was still with us so I could learn more about who he was, what he did, and why he did it.  He would have made an excellent member of our board of directors.

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.

It was doubly late:  late on a Wednesday night in late August when I went to my favorite watering hole to relax before calling it a night.  The radio that was on throughout the restaurant caused the television sets above the liquor bottles to be muted, leaving me with only the away video feed (no audio) for the game between the visiting Arizona Diamondbacks and the host Los Angeles Dodgers.
 
Diamondbacks first baseman Christian Walker was at bat when home plate umpire Alex Tosi called a strike.  Using the inaccurate graphic box that simulates the strike zone for visual context, the pitch was outside; it was a two-seam fastball that purposefully started outside the zone and sunk back towards the plate, but it was probably two inches away from the outside corner as denoted by vertical line superimposed on the screen.  Tosi’s strike mechanic triggered displeasure from Walker.
 
Shortly thereafter, Walker grounded out.  When the camera panned back to Walker putting his batting helmet away in the dugout, he was still yelling at Tosi for that call.  Walker then slammed his batting gloves against the wall, shook his head again, and planted himself against the dugout railing overlooking the field.  His eyes were fixated solely on Tosi as anger and displeasure emanated from every orifice on his head.  The sweat that glistened on his bald white scalp wanted to turn into steam or smoke simply to escape the awkward tension, like a scared child that didn’t want to be around an inappropriately angry parent.
 
The camera would switch back to its normal angle in centerfield to televise each pitch, but the ten seconds of downtime in between each subsequent pitch would be filled with another shot of Walker.  Without hearing the audio, I began to wonder about the impetus that would require the camera to continue its intent focus on Walker following his routine groundout.  Was a director at the network controlling the broadcast and barking orders to keep focusing on Walker, encouraging the commentators to speak in favor of Walker and against Tosi?  Or were the Arizona broadcasters going on an anti-umpire tirade that led the director to simply follow their voices with the appropriate visual shots?  Regardless of whether control belonged to the director or the broadcasters, the schtick became saturated, causing me to silently beg the broadcast itself to focus on to the next batter and forget about Walker’s plate appearance.
 
The raging testosterone fueling Walker’s reaction became secondary to the fanning of the flames being done by the technicians controlling the video telecast.  Even without audio, I was being told by the moving pictures to focus on Walker’s frustration and empathize with him, which might then manifest into a detesting of Tosi and perhaps all umpires.  I wondered if there was a subconscious protocol being implemented by the director to truly influence the feelings and emotions of the viewers in a way that elevated one party on a pedestal and demoted another for the purpose of gaining ratings and revenue.
 
I considered myself lucky that I had the ability to abduct such information; the average viewer (especially with alcohol introduced into the equation) probably would never reach the same conclusion without being lectured.  But the entire ordeal points to the potential that the media wields to control the narrative of the public.  A simple repeated visual focus on an angry ballplayer yelling at an umpire, even without audio, can influence the way people feel, usually by invoking anger or a general uneasiness that points to conflict rather than resolution.
 
We may not be able to control what is put in front of us as we try to watch a game.  After all, the media truly can control the narrative, regardless of whether the context is sports, politics, business, or anything else.  But we do have the ability to consciously recognize these sleazy tactics.  Perhaps the path to peace requires the vulnerability needed to acknowledge this social engineering, relying instead on our freedom to formulate our own opinions without subscribing to a phony gospel.

Watch any Major League Baseball game on television and there’s a chance you will hear an announcer use a phrase that is equal parts passive-aggressive, patronizing, and poor sportsmanship.
 
“It didn’t have to be.”
 
The phrase usually refers to an opinion regarding an umpire’s strike zone.  Television graphics have advanced to the point where many broadcasts overlay an opaque box from the centerfield camera that attempts to represent the strike zone, and the broadcasters believe that the graphic is gospel when helping determine whether the calls made by the home plate umpire are correct.  If a pitch lands outside of the box, yet is called a strike by the umpire, broadcasters take the opportunity take a snipe at the umpire for, in their opinion, being incorrect.
 
“The 1-0 pitch is called a strike, but it didn’t have to be.”
 
The use of this phrase furthers the narrative that authority figures do not have to be respected.  It is a snide way to take a cheap shot without repercussions at someone who may not have the same opportunity to respond to the remark.  Broadcasters are placing guised opinions into the dissemination of information, very much like the biased news casts that come from both sides of the political spectrum, which subconsciously sink into the psyche of viewers and are imitated by the public.
 
However, rather than attempt to edify against the use of this phrase with opinions, a better method to explain why this phrase should not be used is to explain why the graphic on the screen used by broadcasters is faulty and should be discontinued.  If the box is removed from the broadcast, perhaps the opportunities to use the phrase will disappear.
 
Let’s begin with the height of the box, which does not change from batter to batter.  The strike zone for each hitter is defined in the rules as the midpoint between the shoulders and the waist down to the hollow of the knee (the adage being “from the letters to the knees”).  As ballplayers are not robots designed with the same specifications, every hitter will naturally have a different strike zone.  For example, the strike zone for Aaron Judge will be much larger than the strike zone for Jose Altuve.  Yet, the box on the screen has not once changed in height to adjust for these differences.
 
Second, the strike zone is meant to be three dimensional.  A pitch needs only to catch any part of this three-dimensional zone to be deemed a strike by the umpire.  The box on the screen is two-dimensional, more like a windowpane with no depth that needs to be touched by the pitch.  Further, much like the lack of adjustments made for height, the position of the box in relation to the depth of the plate is never fully clear.  Sure, we can be told the box is placed at the front of the plate (or at least in the correct spot), but such a representation cannot truly be trusted, similarly to how the height of the box cannot be trusted.
 
Third, the statistical analysis of how human umpires view pitches based on their setup and mechanics behind the catcher has shown an exceptional number of trends that have been accepted via convention due to their consistency.  That’s not to say that convention is a reason to blindly accept something; rather, this convention allows us to positively use analytics to help us better understand what is happening.  Umpires are taught to set up in “the slot,” defined as the space between the batter and the catcher.  Their eyes are then meant to split the inside corner, giving them an exceptional look at the inside pitch, but possibly sacrificing the best look at the outside pitch.  On average, even the most consistent umpires tend to have a 2-inch margin of error on the outside corner that is widely accepted by all personnel.  However, the box on the screen does not incorporate this.  (Interestingly enough, this trend is most common for umpires who are right-eye dominant when right-handed hitters are at bat.  When right-eye dominant umpires set up for a left-handed batter, a small margin of error develops on the inside corner as well!)
 
Fourth, based on the fraction of moments an umpire is given to determine whether a pitch is a ball or a strike, an increased value is placed on the reception of a pitch by the catcher (sometimes colloquially known as “framing”).  If a “borderline” pitch is received by a catcher with significant movement on the catcher’s mitt, a subconscious message is sent to the umpire that the pitch was not a strike and the catcher tried to move it back into the strike zone to make it appear to be one.  In turn, it’s not uncommon to suggest that professional umpires might etch a picture of the strike zone into their vision to combat this, which does not account for all the minor nuances such as the changing height of the batter.  Players like Aaron Judge have suffered because of this:  Judge has had the most strikes below the strike zone called on him due to his immense height and the need for an umpire to visualize the strike zone to combat improper pitch framing.
 
Finally, the system used by Major League Baseball to evaluate umpires on their plate scores is completely different than what is presented on television with these graphics.  MLB adjusts the strike zone from batter to batter in a “postgame processing” protocol, then applies a two-inch margin of error around the entire zone before determining how many of the pitches were called correctly by the home plate umpire.  The graphics used on television in real time take none of this into account, creating a public persona to hate umpires while cultivating a private system that lauds them and proves they are still more accurate than any computer calling balls and strikes.
 
Thus, it appears that broadcasters who claim pitches “didn’t have to be” strikes may react in the moment without the educational knowledge of how the process truly operates.  These broadcasters choose to be “malignant homers” to appeal to their fanbase instead of objectively remaining true to journalistic integrity.  Rather than seek the approval of viewers, perhaps a better strategy might be to emulate the legendary broadcasters whose words painted pictures and truly enhanced a broadcast through genuine excitement, comfort, and familiarity.

In August 2022 at Chase Field, the Arizona Diamondbacks hosted the St. Louis Cardinals.  The only thing hotter than the outside temperature were the tempers of Cardinals rookie manager Oliver Marmol and veteran home plate umpire C.B. Bucknor.
 
Marmol took exception to some of the calls made by Bucknor on balls and strikes, which led to Bucknor ejecting Marmol.  According to reports, the heated argument that resulted included Bucknor commenting on Marmol’s tenure in the league (Marmol being in his first year as a manager).  This led to Marmol’s reciprocal retort that demanded Bucknor finally retire from umpiring.
 
Fast forward to Spring Training 2023 on the east coast of Florida where Bucknor was stationed and assigned to be the home plate umpire for a game with the Cardinals.  According to reports, Bucknor refused to shake Marmol’s hand during the pregame plate meeting.  This led to postgame comments from Marmol that further questioned his ability to umpire in addition to his class as a man.
 
Major League Baseball investigated the incident and eventually came to believe everything was behind them, clearing the air and putting the entire soap opera to bed.  However, as media members and fans alike began to dissect the timeline of events, the same refrain of hating the umpire rang in the rafters.  The question these people asked was the same:  on behalf of his status representing the sport of baseball, why couldn’t Bucknor just be the “bigger man” and forget it?
 
Can you recall a time when you held a job in an industry such as retail, food service, or hospitality?  If so, can you think of an example during said tenure when a customer was nasty, either for no reason or provoked due to a minor mistake?  Was your window of tolerance ever so small or closed that it led to a confrontation with the customer that became more than it should have ever been?
 
That might be an accurate comparison of what occurred between Marmol and Bucknor that day.
 
Everyone who has or has held a job that involves customers, clients, or other people who are served or serviced by such work usually must encounter people who simply do not understand that the combination of unprovoked poor behavior, finger pointing, and catching people at the wrong time can lead to disastrous results.  Emotions and feelings begin to boil, calling upon defense mechanisms for support.  Words fly from mouths and through the air with the intent to attack, defend, and wage war without the use of rational thought.
 
For example, imagine a restaurant customer sitting at a table.  The customer is not thrilled with the service of the waitstaff and decides to complain in a belligerent and boisterous way to the manager, taking personal jabs at the waitress assigned to the table.  The manager explains to the customer that the restaurant is short staffed that day, as a few workers are sick, and the waitress in question came in on a day off to help.  Further, the waitress has been dealing with a terminally ill parent, causing her performance at work to suffer slightly.
 
The customer refuses to apologize and simply demands better service.
 
If that customer continued to come back to that restaurant while that waitress was working, what would be the probability that the waitress would refuse to serve this customer, let alone even acknowledge the customer, knowing that what was said prior was hurtful and inconsiderate of what was happening in her life at that time?
 
Oliver Marmol may have felt that his actions were justified that day for a myriad of reasons (like the “defense” of his players), but the fact of the matter is that his words clearly struck a chord that caused C.B. Bucknor to be quite offended.  Even if Marmol was provoked by Bucknor, there can be quite a difference in tenor between noting rookie status and the aging process.  Sure, that may not justify Bucknor’s comment, but there is a distinct difference between grotesque phrases that can boil down to not “earning one’s stripes yet” versus being put out to pasture, similar to the difference between verbal taunting and physically assaulting.  Further, being the “bigger man” doesn’t always mean to forget that someone treated you horribly; it can mean maturely standing up for one’s feelings.
 
Perhaps the real sin (or where the line was certainly crossed) was when Marmol decided to question the integrity of someone tasked with upholding the game of baseball.
 
Imagine a teacher disciplines a young student for bad behavior in school.  The student asks, “What did I do?  What could I have possibly done to deserve this?”
 
The teacher responds, “You’re ten years old in your first week of fifth grade and you’re talking back to me.  I’m not having that for this entire school year.”
 
The student responds, “Then you need to retire!  You’re terrible at your job and you’ve been doing it for too long!  If you won’t give me what I want or deserve, then I demand the school gives me a teacher who will!”
 
That is essentially what happened between Marmol and Bucknor.
 
Perhaps a better example would be to translate this to a situation where a police officer has pulled an adult over for a traffic stop.  The cop says to the driver, “I saw you driving dangerously, weaving in and out of traffic in a very unsafe way.”
 
The driver responds, “That’s preposterous.  There’s absolutely no way I could have done that.  You’re not seeing clearly and should have your eyes checked.”
 
Here’s an example of what the cop absolutely will not say:  “You know what?  You’re right.  I’m a terrible cop and need to get glasses.  Excuse me while I go home and rethink my life.”
 
Although positions of authority are held by fallible humans who are no better than any other human, the position of authority must be respected, especially if dealing with a comparatively inconsequential environment such as sports.  Teachers, police officers, and umpires demand respect when they are on duty or at work.  It’s certainly possible that the person holding that authority is not as honorable as we would like, but the uniform still requires the respect it deserves.
 
Therefore, can anyone blame Bucknor for feeling so insulted that he would refuse to shake Marmol’s hand the following year?  Such a personal attack really seemed to get under Bucknor’s skin.  We have no idea if Bucknor was experiencing something that day that might make him more sensitive, but that point is moot when we begin to consider that we should simply be treating others the way we would want to be treated, regardless of circumstances.