​An umpire colleague of mine once said something regarding the status of how we should approach scholastic baseball games that aren’t varsity (i.e. junior varsity, freshman, middle school):  “Subvarsity games are essentially glorified scrimmages.”
 
The main purpose of this statement is legal.  When enforcing rules and recording results, the outcome of a junior varsity game means absolutely nothing in comparison to the varsity squad.  This allows emphasis to be placed on the development of the young players as well as the up-and-coming umpires who may need more experience.  Further, if a call is incorrect or a rule is applied incorrectly, it becomes a teachable moment rather than an egregious error.
 
From the perspective of the kids playing, it’s also understandable to see how they might play the game from the opposite point of view.  To a young teenager without much life experience, an incorrect call from an umpire might seem like a personal attack worthy of a vehement argument.  This actually works in favor of those trying to make scholastic athletics a true extension of the classroom:  our youth can use these situations to learn about life, especially with the guidance of coaches and parents who can help put the experience into perspective.
 
The real question, then, is about why adults take these games even more seriously than the kids playing them.
 
Anyone who has coached, officiated, or watched a plethora of subvarsity games has undoubtedly seen another adult take the game too seriously, perhaps to the point of being inappropriate.  Instead of being the mentors that our young players might need, the adults perceive these issues as the same personal attacks (if not worse) than how the most serious of young players might.  The example set by these adults has the potential to do much more harm than good, even if the justification is to fight for the team.
 
For example, I recently officiated a junior varsity game as part of my responsibilities to mentor inexperienced officials.  My partner was behind the plate, and my job while working the bases was to watch and observe him, looking for opportunities to provide feedback and suggestions.  Neither of the two teams were exceptionally talented, but that paled in comparison to the personalities of the two head coaches:  one coach took the game way too seriously, while the other couldn’t have cared less.
 
As a result, a lot of my mentoring of the young official dealt with the attitudes displayed by the coaches instead of talking about rules, mechanics, positioning, and other tips that might help him become a better umpire.
 
It makes sense if the kids in these games play too seriously:  they don’t know any better, relatively speaking.  It doesn’t make sense why the adults follow the same path.  The result of that junior varsity game in question will more than likely not affect the personal value and self-worth of the kids.  Yet, the adults treat it as such.
 
One of the best things these adults in question can do is to realize that subvarsity games usually get “subvarsity” officials.  That is, the officials who are young, inexperienced, or simply not of a high-enough quality tend to work these games.  Further, with these attitudes being rampant, it’s easy to see why the number of officials is dwindling.  At this rate, there won’t be umpires to work these games, regardless of quality!
 
Adults in all roles can do one simple thing to make an improvement in these situations:  put the subvarsity games in context.  Play hard, and play to win, but remember reality:  it’s a glorified scrimmage.

Per usual, it’s always important to begin a post such as this with the normal disclaimer:  OSIP does not endorse any political candidate or party, and the views, thoughts, and opinions of those associated with OSIP do not necessarily reflect the organization.
 
While brainstorming some new ideas for the organization, I playfully wondered what would happen if I started a media campaign called “Make Sportsmanship Great Again.”  That’s when it appropriately hit me:  word association is a bit of a hurdle.
 
In the United States, it’s not subjective to note that this phrase shares three words with the phrase “Make America Great Again,” which has become associated with President Donald Trump.  There is obviously a gaggle of thoughts and emotions that arise in this scenario, regardless of one’s political affiliation.  Perhaps the safest suggestion without sounding politically motivated is to say that the phrase “Make America Great Again” or its acronym MAGA has become used to label a group of people.  In doing so, the definition of each separate word and the absolute value of the sentence take not just a backseat to this label, but they feel like they’re shoved deep in the bowels of the trunk!
 
If able, try an experiment.  Eliminate this newer association with the phrase and consider what the sentence means.  At worst, the sentence is an imperative command that demands the listener or the reader to adopt the goal of working towards the best possible outcome for the United States of America.  The connotation of the sentence may also imply that the challenge to achieve this goal stems from the object (America) currently residing at a lower value than where the speaker or writer believes it should be.
 
Prior to the connotation being introduced, it’s difficult to argue with the impetus of the phrase.  Wanting the best for our country, regardless of the method, is just plain good; attempting to argue the opposite is ludicrous.  It’s not until the introduction of the connotation that a potential assertion is added that might suggest that where America resides prior to the goal proposed by the statement is lower than where one would want it to be.
 
Is it possible that opinions will differ once the connotation is introduced?  Absolutely.  But even so, a differing of opinions based on the status of America is not yet entwined (in this experiment, at least) with the association we’ve removed prior to beginning.
 
In short, the point is that the phrase and acronym in question isn’t troublesome.  It’s the weight and the charge that people inject into the entity that creates the hurdle.  The words stop holding their definition and become a symbol of something completely different.  But in a world where perception can dictate reality, trying to rely on objectivity to convey truth can be a losing game when many people prefer the path of least resistance.
 
In other words, a campaign based on the phrase “Make Sportsmanship Great Again” wouldn’t automatically fail because people don’t value the importance of sportsmanship.  It would suffer because it sounds too much like something else that some people have already judged, therefore not even giving it a chance to succeed.  The cost/benefit ratio tilts because of something not even remotely associated with sportsmanship.
 
This is not the first time this type of association has occurred, let alone with words.  What if we changed the symbol of words to an authority figure, such as a baseball umpire?  Sports officials commonly fall victim to the equation of “the enemy of my enemy is my friend.”  Therefore, no matter how much two rival teams or their fanbases hate each other, it’s easy for them to bond over the idea that they can equally hate the arbiter overseeing them.  It’s the same idea as when two high school kids in detention equally hate the principal for putting them there, even though the cause of the punishment was a fist fight between these two kids!
 
And yet, the person doing the officiating changes from game to game.  But that doesn’t seem to affect the disdain for the position of the official!  For example, if a person gets pulled over for speeding three times in one day by three different cops, it’s more likely for the person to develop a disdain for the police in general than to take personal responsibility and learn that speeding might cause this outcome!
 
There’s a saying in officiating:  the players, coaches, and fans aren’t arguing with you, the person, but with your uniform.  They don’t see the value of the person wearing the uniform; they just see the uniform and fall into a trap of immediate negative association.  The same goes with word association.  The label associated with “Make America Great Again” holds more value than the words themselves.  It’s a form of name-calling.
 
In fact, this phenomenon has occurred throughout history in the form of prejudice.  Perhaps it seems a bit too simple to reduce it, but the civil rights movement occurred because people were being judged by the color of their skin (their uniform or label), not the content of their character.
 
Put simply, one must ask this question:  are we really playing (or existing) with good sportsmanship when we give more power to symbols and connotations instead of the individual words or people associated with them?

Have you heard of the Dunning-Kruger effect?
 
In short, this effect is a psychological phenomenon that says that people who are not smart believe they are smarter than they actually are, while people who are actually smart believe they are not smart.
 
It has overtones of both ‘ignorance is bliss’ and ‘knowledge is half the battle.’  We could certainly go down many paths of discussion as we examine what is truly happening in the minds of those being tasked to demonstrate this effect.  But let’s try to keep it simple.
 
Across all sports and competition, the Dunning-Kruger effect is prominent regardless of the role.  If you’ve never been seriously inside the circle of being a player, coach, parent, fan, official, or media member, it’s entirely possible you may succumb to this effect.  And if it’s not you, you can easily find someone else who will!
 
How many non-players think it’s easy to hit a fastball traveling at 90mph?  How many armchair quarterbacks think they could handle the pressure of being the head coach of an NFL team in a close game?  How many of the 50,000 screaming patrons think they can do a better job than the professional official on the field in front of them?  We could keep asking these questions…
 
Ironically, Dunning-Kruger points towards empathy as being key.  Lacking conscious empathy for others usually is a formula for this effect to fill the vacancy.  And it’s through this empathy that we can build and tap into good sportsmanship.
 
But there’s a new wrinkle to this story in today’s world.  In the name of ‘slicing the baloney too thin,’ those who are defensive in response to the possibility that they just might not be good at something tend to be the same ones who do not see the forest for the trees, seeking to highlight the possible existence of subjective truth and how it can trump innocent opinions.
 
To help demonstrate a recent example of Dunning-Kruger, a gentleman with an interest in flying aircraft (but with no training) was given ample opportunity to watch training videos and play video game simulators before being thrust into a true brick-and-mortar flight simulator to see if he had the knowledge and experience to do it professionally.  His task was to pilot a plane in three scenarios, each requiring landing the aircraft.
 
He barely succeeded in the first attempt with the help of an auto-pilot program.  His second landing destroyed the landing gear.  His third was a failure.
 
In a more innocent world, most people would simply use this as an example of this effect.  However, in today’s world, where everyone’s opinion is plastered throughout social media, there are people who are choosing to frame the gentleman’s experience as a success.
 
Their rationale?  In two of the three attempts, the passengers on the plane probably would have lived.  If a situation arose where the pilots took ill and an inexperienced passenger had to land a commercial aircraft, an objective person (not currently succumbing to the adrenaline and fear of potential death) sees a 67% chance of success and likes the odds!
 
The joke, however, is on them, as this just illustrates Dunning-Kruger even more.  If those people were actually on the flight, faced with the possibility that death was imminent, and had to put their faith in a stranger with no more than a 67% success rate to ensure they live, one would imagine they would be singing a different tune.  (And if they aren’t, what are the odds they’re a psychopath?)
 
The same is true in sports.  Demonstrate that human umpires in Major League Baseball get 96% of ball/strike calls correct (which is 6% more than the computers when the automatic system was first discussed) and watch two distinct reactions:  those with empathy for umpires (or those who have umpired before) look in awe at the professionals who get that many calls correct, while those lacking empathy (or who haven’t umpired before) complain about the 4% that were technically incorrect, regardless of whether they were consequential to the outcome of the game.
 
“But even if one missed pitch didn’t affect the outcome of an at-bat, it could have had an effect on another plate appearance, as one less bullet was in the pitcher’s arm!”
 
I rest my case.
 
Why is the vitriol prominent?  One potential reason is the advent of sports betting.  We live in a world where a bettor can wager on something as minute as a pitch being a ball or a strike.  A pitcher may throw a strike by the letter of the law, but if an umpire calls it a ball, no amount of truth can overturn that.
 
Yet, Major League Baseball is instituting a challenge system for balls and strikes this season, allowing players to attempt to “right a wrong.”  However, challenges are finite:  each team only has two per game, and they are only retained if the challenge is successful.  Strategy now plays a role in how to seek a correct outcome.
 
We’ve reached a point where money (and our attachment to it) is now potentially influencing Dunning-Kruger.  The emotional intangibles that once naturally governed the psychology of Dunning-Kruger (“I’m not currently in a life-or-death situation, but I could easily land a plane with no experience, and a 67% chance of success is in my favor”) have morphed into a capitalist hodgepodge (“I have no experience umpiring baseball, but based on how I’ve lost money betting on balls and strikes since the umpire was incorrect and I should have won money, I know I can do a better job”).  But the structure of Dunning-Kruger hasn’t changed.  Rather, the lens has shifted, as we have replaced one variable with another without altering the stasis of this experience.
 
It doesn’t matter why it happens.  It matters that it happens.  We’ve known that it happens and that it will continue to happen.  We can’t stop the phenomenon; rather, we can only react to its existence.  And the proper reaction is empathy.  After all, wait until you get in the batter’s box and try to hit a fastball at 90mph with no experience doing it.  Trust me:  you’ll change your tune!

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.