Recently, I saw a video that explained how private equity has helped turn youth sports into big business.  Youth sports in the United States now generates approximately $40 billion annually, more than the NFL and NBA combined.

The model that private equity firms follow finds them buying companies not traded publicly to increase profits, often by cutting costs, raising prices, and assuming debt, all in the name of a business decision to adapt to a changing landscape.  This model helped sink chains like Payless, Sears, Toys “R” Us, and Red Lobster.  They didn’t disappear because customers vanished; they disappeared because a decision was made, whether innocent or nefarious, to prioritize short-term profit over long-term investment.

Private equity has also played a major role in the housing crisis, both in the United States and abroad.  Corporate investors have purchased massive numbers of single-family homes and apartment complexes.  In many cities, these firms now rank among the largest landlords, giving them a monopoly to drive up prices.

In other words, private equity views everyday institutions as financial assets.

Over the past decade, private equity firms have been buying up youth sports clubs, tournament operators, training facilities, recruiting platforms, and equipment and uniform companies.  One of the biggest entities is Unrivaled Sports, launched in 2024 by Josh Harris and David Blitzer, two veteran private investors who also own the New Jersey Devils, Philadelphia 76ers, Washington Commanders, and Crystal Palace FC.  Another major player is 3StepSports, which owns hundreds of club teams across the country.  Between them, these firms now control clubs, athletic complexes, youth leagues, camps, uniform manufacturers, scheduling platforms, and media outlets.

It’s easy to see where this is heading.  Consider some of these new factors:

-Families with kids on travel teams are now forced into “stay-to-play” arrangements, requiring them to book hotels at rates 30-50% higher than normal because of an agreement or relationship between the hotels and the teams/leagues/tournaments.  Those who try to stay elsewhere often face hotel “breakage fees” ranging from $300 to $1000.

-Groups such as Black Bear Sports Group, owned by private equity firm Blackstreet Capital (the largest owner of ice rinks in the US), have banned parents from recording their own children playing hockey at its facilities.  Instead, if parents want to review film either to help their child improve their craft or simply keep memories, they now must pay $25-$50 per month for a streaming service for the privilege.

The message to parents is clear:  pay up, or your kid gets left behind.  In the process, some of the most important lessons sports should teach, such as teamwork, sportsmanship, discipline, fitness, and fun, are being left for dead.

The financial consequences are staggering.  The average American family now spends over $1000 per year on a single primary sport for their child, a 46% increase since 2019, far outpacing inflation.  Travel teams, specialized training, and equipment push that number much higher.  For many families, youth sports now feel like a second mortgage.

This shift has cultural consequences as well.  Kids are being pushed into early sports specialization at younger ages, despite strong evidence that young athletes benefit from playing more than one sport.  This increases the likelihood of burnout, stress, and overuse injuries.

The bad news is that those looking to profit off parents’ hopes for their kids aren’t going away.  The good news is that we still have the power to protect what makes youth sports special.

We can start by supporting community-based leagues and programs.  Municipal parks and recreation leagues, school teams, and nonprofit clubs typically prioritize sportsmanship, development, and fun over profit.  When economically feasible, school boards and town councils need to hear how important it is to responsibly invest in facilities.  Public funding can help make youth sports more accessible.

Perhaps we should try to reject the pressure narrative.  Ten-year-olds usually do not need to be on three travel teams to succeed.  They rarely need year-round private coaching or early specialization.  When parents focus on their kids’ enjoyment and growth rather than chasing athletic scholarships or professional careers, it can lead to better sportsmanship in the stands as well.

We must also reject the “one-path-to-success” myth.  Fewer than 7% of high school athletes go on to play a sport in college.  An even smaller fraction will play professionally.  For most kids, sports are not about compiling a highlight reel for college recruiters or pro teams; they’re about having fun, making friends, and learning lessons they’ll take into adulthood.

Parents should make the decision not to sit idly by and allow youth sports to become even more entrenched as big business.  Otherwise, we risk losing the spirit of the game and denying countless children the opportunity to learn the life lessons that only sports can teach.

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

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

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.

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.

This is a true story that happened recently.

After already booking a tee time for a Sunday afternoon, I was asked the night before to cover a game in the early evening.  Aware of the global shortage of officials, I took the game, aware that I would not play all 18 holes the next day.  Tired, hot, frustrated, and hungry, I walked onto a field to umpire a baseball game between nine-year-old kids by myself.  Hoping vulnerability would be my ally, I opened up to both coaches during our pregame conference.
 
“Guys,” I said, “I’m going to be honest with you.  I was pulled off the golf course to cover this game by myself.  I’m tired, hot, and hungry, and my golf game is absolutely terrible, but I know someone must cover this game since there is a shortage of officials.  I ask that everybody play with good sportsmanship.  And above all, please treat me kindly.”  My wry smile was met with a chuckle, as both coaches were jealous that I had gotten onto the golf course.
 
Within two outs being recorded after the first pitch, the coach from the visiting team was complaining about the strike zone.
 
In the top of the second inning with two outs, a batter from the visiting team smoked a fly ball to left field.  The left fielder made a fabulous catch to end the inning, causing the batter to begin to cry.
 
Is it childish to cry over this?  Certainly.  But the kid was also nine.  If anyone is going to cry over this, a child would be the one to do it.  However, the same visiting coach in question didn’t see it that way.  He was having no luck calming the kid down, so he did what came natural:  he fanned the flames and made it worse.  “Stop crying, you baby!” he said.
 
Of course, this made the kid cry more.  Now the kid refused to go out to center field out of protest.  The coach sent a substitute to center field while making it worse.  “You know what you are?  You’re a quitter!”
 
Now the kid was sobbing.
 
The first pitch of the bottom of the second inning was popped up to center field.  The new center fielder camped under it, only to have it go off his glove and fall to the ground.  The coach turned back to the crying kid.  “That’s on you for being a quitter!” he shouted.
 
Then I had to make a call at third base while standing behind home plate.  “He’s out!” I shouted.
 
That same coach was now arguing from the third base coach’s box.  “He dropped the ball!” he shouted.
 
I looked everywhere and could not see the ball on the ground.  I stood by my call.
 
“The third baseman had to reach with his bare hand between the legs of the runner to pick up the ball!  How can you not see that?” he argued.
 
“Look at where I am when I have to make that call,” I explained.  “I can’t see that, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”
 
The coach had a few more choice words not suitable for print media, then he walked back to the dugout in disgust.
 
The first batter of the next half-inning smoked a line drive to right-center field.  I hustled from behind the plate for a potential play at second base, but the kid took a turn and headed for third.  I jogged to my left and positioned myself properly.  The runner slid under the tag.  “Safe!” I declared.
 
Now the coach was irate.  He and his assistants created a cacophony of complaints, causing me to become irate as well.  “That’s enough!” I shouted back.
 
One assistant coach didn’t stop, though.  I ejected him.
 
With my blood sugar dropping and significant fatigue settling in, I desperately tried to stop shaking and calm down.  My skin was slightly burnt.  I was out of water.  And I wanted to get out of there badly.
 
That’s when a foul ball hit my collarbone.
 
Nothing was broken, and I was able to continue the game after a medical delay to make sure I was okay, but insult was clearly added to injury…or maybe injury was added to insult.
 
The visiting team, complete with crying kids and complaining coaches, ended up winning.
 
I hobbled to my car when the umpire assignor and the ejected coach approached me.  The coach was nice enough to apologize, although it had to be accompanied by a statement that he had never been ejected prior and he didn’t think what he said warranted an ejection.
 
I took a deep breath, still in throbbing pain from the blow to my collarbone.  “Look,” I began.  “I’ve been doing this for fifteen years.  I’ve worked many levels, from young kids through college.  I’ve befriended professional umpires.  I’ve studied the rule book.  I’ve tried to understand human psychology as it pertains to competition.”
 
Both men stared intently at me, as if they knew what I was going to say next.
 
“This, gentlemen,” I said, “is the type of game that makes me want to quit umpiring.”
 
There was a brief silence.  In that moment, I couldn’t hold back my vulnerable opinion.
 
“I don’t understand how coaches can abuse these kids verbally by calling them quitters.  I don’t understand how you can’t see that we have a global shortage of officials because of this behavior.  Nobody wants to come out here and endure this kind of behavior for $50.  It is ludicrous.”
 
I honestly felt guilt and shame for expressing my opinion.  “Coach your kids however you want,” I concluded.  “But without people like me, you have no games.”

There are many different forms of poor sportsmanship.  Most instances are fueled by negativity, an undesirable result, or uncontrolled criticism.  However, there are times when adults believe they are helping, only to truly be hurting the athletes, coaches, and team.

It’s tough for parents to avoid shouting out what they see and feel during a sporting event, but coaching from the sidelines or behind the fence is a form of poor sportsmanship.  This does not include reinforcing what the coaches are preaching, such as a helpful reminder to an athlete ("Keep boxing out!") or words of encouragement (“Shake that one off and get the next one!”).  What we’re addressing are adults who holler directives with no regard for the coaches, the athletes, and the consequences of their actions.

You’re undermining the coaching staff.  Whether you agree with them or not, the coaches are in charge of the team.  They decide who is playing when and where, what game strategy shall be used, and what style of play is best.  Yelling out instructions that conflict with what the staff is coaching is exceptionally damaging.  It puts the athlete in a difficult position – "Who should I listen to?  My coach or my parent?"  It can generate doubt amongst other parents who would otherwise not think to partake in the same behavior.  It can also cause strife between teammates.  If the quality of the coaching staff is in question, address it in a parent meeting or after the season is over.

You’re not allowing the athletes to think for themselves.  Telling an athlete what to do, when to do it, where to stand, and when to move is fastening shackles on their ability to develop instinct and creativity.  Yes, it is painful to watch young athletes make mistakes, but it’s how they learn.  Discuss teaching points with them before the game, after the game, or out in the backyard.  But during the game, it’s their time to play. We’ve had our time.

You’re sending a message that listening to the person in charge is optional.  This is a bad message to send on and off the field.  It basically says, “Respect authority, but only if you agree with them.  If not, don’t listen.”  That will not work out long-term in sports or in life.

Most don’t want to hear what you have to say.  Every parent who watches their sons and daughters compete have thoughts, opinions, and emotions.  It’s completely normal.  The need to verbalize those thoughts, opinions, and emotions becomes the issue.  When a spectator constantly complains, yells, or coaches throughout the contest, it’s downright irritating.  It takes away from spectator enjoyment.

If you’re a parent who has difficulty keeping your thoughts to yourself, remove yourself.  Stand down in the corner or in the outfield to give yourself the freedom to react (within reason).  If that’s too much to ask, you should ask yourself why.

It’s understood that not every coach in charge is the best.  Some have great personalities but lack knowledge.  Others can teach the sport but lack composure.  If you’re a parent that has a lot to offer to young athletes, take the appropriate steps to become a coach yourself.  But until then, enjoy the sporting event as a spectator.

The 2022 Olympic Winter Games inspired me to reflect on a sportsmanship situation we encountered a few years ago.
 
While manning a table at a local town fair, a woman approached us and became combative (in front of children, no less), expressing her opinion that she did not see a need for OSIP to exist, claiming OSIP is another form of a participation trophy. 
 
This couldn't be further from the truth.
 
For some background, OSIP's mission statement is: 
 

1. To provide financial aid and assistance to those affected by acts of aggression due to poor sportsmanship and/or fanship, and,
2. To raise awareness of the need for better sportsmanship in all capacities throughout sports and competition.

 
We would love nothing more than to not have to exist, but as it stands now, there are lots of eyes that can greatly benefit from being opened on the subject.  Sportsmanship exists beyond athletic settings; it goes with us on the journey we call life.  Competition plays a role in politics, the workplace, and many other facets and situations.  Participation trophies do nothing to help young minds learn how to handle these scenarios.  Winning isn’t everything (though the desire to win and give it “your all” on the field is celebrated); being able to lose and accept it with dignity is just as important than winning (if not more so).  Learning how to lose in organized sports is an important lesson just as it is when you’re in the running for a job, an election, or any other related capacity.
 
“Participation trophies actually take away from the concept of sportsmanship,” said OSIP Chairperson Sean Ryan.  “The process of winning and losing and how to accept those situations gracefully is a life lesson.  Failing is learning while winning should be humbling.  Participation trophies, depending on their context, can represent winning without trying.  To truly experience winning, we first must experience losing and what it feels like.  This way, outcomes are more appreciated and accepted.”
 
“How exactly would the Brian Stow incident or a young athlete yelling at umpires relate to a participation trophy?” asks OSIP Vice-Chairperson Sean Gough.  “Were violence and whining the trophies?  Seems telling, too, that those who bash from afar often stereotype by invoking participation trophies.  Aside from the lack of originality, the confusion of decency with coddling already suggests a problem with their conceptions of sportsmanship.”  
 
So, once the pandemic storm calms, if you see us at a community event, please stop by, say hi, and help us spread the good word.  Heck, we will even sweeten the deal with some giveaway candy.
 
There is so much more to be said about this topic, more than I can muster in this blog post.  But if you’ve made it this far: rock on!  Please don’t let me bring your interest to an abrupt stop here.
 
Allow me to introduce you to “On Sportsmanship: A Critical Reader and Handbook,” available in paperback, hardcover, and Kindle formats from Amazon.  Happy reading, and happy good-sportsman-ing!  
 
OSIP is always looking for more people who would like to get involved.  Visit www.osipfoundation.org for more information.  (Although, since we already have three people named Sean, if your name happens to be Sean, we may need to lovingly assign you a new alias.)

If there’s one thing I’ve learned since March 2020, it’s that fear is one of the most, if not the most, powerful tool in the woodshed.
 
The concept of fear is rooted in our human ability to sense danger and to avoid it.  Ancient man would fear predators in the wilderness for the sake of survival.  Presently, we can use fear in more conventional ways, like when we feel uncomfortable around the possibility of skydiving.  It’s quite a reasonable barometer in these contexts.
 
Fear usually encompasses the unknown:  we fear what we don’t know.  What will happen if I approach this predator?  Could I sustain injury if I skydive?  Even in situations where we have reasonable security that we can predict the outcome of actions, we’re never one hundred percent sure.  A parent may naturally fear his or her child going away to college due to the unknown that awaits ahead, but the parent usually comes to terms with this, perhaps drawing on his or her own experiences, and understands that, although there is no absolute guarantee of safety, the odds are that the child will be okay.
 
On a simpler scale, fear of the unknown may be the motivating factor for a child to resist trying a new food.  Young minds may default to not liking something simply because there is no experience of it yet.  If we have yet to understand something, we tend to default to a dislike of it or a fear of it.
 
Sometimes, fear comes from trauma.  If we are bitten by a dog when we have our first experience with one, the pain caused by the physical bite may cause us to fear dogs for the remainder of our lives if we do not work to overcome the fear.  If fear can manifest from both the the unknown and the experience of trauma, we can see why fear is so powerful.
 
Where fear becomes abusive is when our human behavior is altered beyond reason for abnormal motives, such as control, revenge, or wealth.  When fear controls us, we are the prime audience for Franklin D. Roosevelt’s quote:  “We have nothing to fear but fear itself.”
 
When the tool of fear falls into the wrong hands, it can be used in acts of poor sportsmanship.  Sports teams can use fear to psychologically intimidate opponents, perhaps through embarrassment or threat of injury.  Parents can use fear to try to control the actions of their children, causing the children to fear the repercussions if they do not do as the parents say.  Coaches may fear their future when their job is on the line.  Officials may fear the possibility of a player or coach arguing with them.  The list of possibilities is endless.
 
If we consider the six roles discussed in my book, “On Sportsmanship:  A Critical Reader and Handbook” (available now on Amazon for Kindle and in both paperback and hardcover), that encompass the first part of the text, we can see from the above examples that players, coaches, fans, parents, and officials can be affected by fear.  What about the media, though?
 
The fact of the matter is that the media can manipulate the public through fear very easily, and that is an act of poor sportsmanship.  These entities have the power to dictate to us how to feel based on what is reported, regardless of whether it is fact or not.  If we are told that sports officials are bad by the media, then we can subconsciously begin to believe this.  If we are told that our team’s archrival is the enemy, we may see them as opponents in a theater of war rather than on a field, court, rink, or pitch.
 
Not all media outlets are bad, and not all journalists are nefarious.  Further, we can be our own worst enemy in terms of fear, hearing and believing only what we want and refusing to use the concepts of critical thinking and analysis to formulate new breakthrough thoughts.
 
Consider the path of fear that has traversed the public during this pandemic.  We defaulted to fear because the virus was novel; without prior information or evidence, we assumed the worst rather than waiting to examine evidence and compare data.  We feared what could happen to us if we left our homes:  we didn’t know what might happen if we contracted the virus, so we forced ourselves to stay safe, especially without a cure or vaccine.  We convinced ourselves that wearing multiple face coverings and social distancing would stop the virus while we diligently worked for a vaccine.  What’s worse, though, is that we convinced ourselves that anything reported to us with a twist of fear had to be fact and, thus, feared.
 
Before the warmer weather of 2021 and the distribution of vaccines, plausible arguments could be made to support any claim on how to combat this threat; there was reasonable doubt and a lack of supporting evidence that allowed our fear to maintain its hold on us.  In fact, fear spread quicker and did more damage than the virus could ever do, harming our mental states in ways that will stay with us for years, if not decades, after this story has run its course.  However, we now live in a time and an environment where we have a choice.  We have reached the fork in the road, to call back to our post from last month!
 
One path leads us to sanity.  We will come to understand that we have the tools to live normal lives without fear of this virus.  We have vaccines that work when we receive our full dosage and booster (not to mention that will continue to be studied since they were expedited without the examination of long-term data).  If you’re not a fan of vaccines, we still have plenty of other things to help protect us, such as using good hygienic practices (washing our hands, not touching our face, etc.) and staying home when we’re sick.  And we also have the medical tools to help us feel better when we are sick, either via at-home remedies or in medical facilities.  We can take off the masks, throw them away, ditch the mandates, and be ourselves.
 
The other path leads us back to irrational fear.  We can sit at home and not live our normal lives, afraid that the virus will get us if we leave the four walls that surround us.  We can think that contact with anyone could lead to contracting the virus.  We can think that the vaccine and all other methods of prevention and cure are simply not enough, perhaps tainted by other entities such as the government.  We can wear multiple masks, believing that this piece of magic cloth has the power to prevent all illness and is the key to preserving what remains of life in this apocalyptic existence.  We can never go back to the way our lives were because the fear of what if will keep us safe and prevent anything bad from happening.  (Spoiler alert:  said fear will not prevent bad things from happening.)
 
One path teaches us to fight fear the same way we fight poor sportsmanship:  leading by example, empowering those who support the same ideals, and being beacons of good morals.  The other path encourages fear and poor sportsmanship, promoting its growth and spread like a virus.
 
I know which path I’m taking.  Which will you choose?