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.

Bullying is a pervasive issue that affects many youths and adults.  It is not reserved just for kids in school:  bullying may be one of the most critical antagonists in the story of good sportsmanship because it is the antithesis of following the golden rule.  As someone who has personally experienced bullying, I understand the impact it can have on one's self-esteem and overall well-being.
 
Growing up in a Chicago suburb, I felt I was surrounded by a concoction of affluence and arrogance.  Many of my peers came from privileged backgrounds and often used their status to belittle others.  Not only did I contrast because I came from a middle-class family, but I was the only non-athlete in a family of sports enthusiasts:  my mom was a former cheerleader; my dad was a former football player; one sister was a soccer player and cheerleader; another sister was a softball player; and my brother was a football player.  My interest in the arts contributed to the experience of feeling isolated in an environment where bullying felt corrosive, leaving me to find solace in the seclusion of my studies and at libraries.  However, this took a significant toll on my confidence and made me dread going to school each morning.  Ultimately, I ended up transferring schools my junior year because I had not yet developed essential skills such as emotional resilience, conflict resolution, or effective coping strategies.
 
Today, over ten years later, I have finally learned the power of positive reinforcement, problem solving, boundaries, empathy, and respect thanks to my experience in the workplace.  The value of good teamwork, collective effort, and sportsmanship demonstrates that in life, as in sports, how we treat others truly matters:  the workplace (which, in theory, is the adult version of school) runs much smoother if we are encouraged to support one another, celebrate each other's successes, and lift each other up during tough times.  This environment of mutual respect and encouragement was a stark contrast to the bullying I faced in high school.  How ironic (but not surprising) that this dynamic mirrors the formula that helps breed success in sports!
 
Overcoming bullying, both on and off the sports field, is not easy, but with the right support and environment, it is possible.  In fact, sports can play a pivotal role in the process of eliminating bullying, providing a safe space for children to grow, learn, and mature.  Unfortunately, according to recent data from Jersey Watch, the sports participation rates for youth ages 6-17 declined by 6% between 2019 and 2022, translating to 1.2 million fewer youth regularly playing team sports within this age group​​​​.  Also, around 70% of kids in the USA stop playing organized sports by age 13, citing reasons such as burnout, pressure from overly competitive parents, ineffective coaching, or simply that the sports are no longer fun​​​.  As such, using youth sports as a catalyst to overcome bullying becomes more and more rare when the number of participating kids declines this rapidly.
 
As the entity of sports has been said to mirror life, it’s no surprise that bullying has the potential to be the same destructive force in both sports and life.  However, it becomes even more sad when bullying in sports negates the power that participation in sports might have to help overcome bullying in life!  Such a phenomenon highlights how imperative it is that we at least reverse the trend to end bullying in sports; perhaps fighting that good fight will result in a move to end bullying overall.

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

It was around 2011 when I was in my third year of managing a summer baseball team for kids aged 15 to 19.  After completing a difficult regular season, we had reached the playoffs and were about to start an early-round single-elimination game that would send the losing team home for the summer.
 
After the exchange of lineup cards with the other manager and the umpires, I noticed something that seemed incorrect.  Some of the names of the players listed on the lineup card for the other team were unfamiliar.  The league had provided teams with finalized rosters, so I decided to crosscheck.  Sure enough, there were names in our opponent’s starting lineup that were not listed on their roster provided by the league.
 
I asked the umpires for a moment to confer with my coaches before starting the game.  We wondered if this oddity was a clerical error by the league or an illegal attempt to use better players to win.  While debating with my coaches, the umpires came over and asked about the concern.  We looped them in and explained the situation.  After a few moments of questioning and debating, I informed the umpires that I felt the correct thing for me to do was to play the game under protest, which invokes a baseball rule that forces league officials to examine the situation and adjudicate if the game was played properly or not.  I justified it by saying that if it was a simple clerical error on the part of the league, then there would be no issue; however, if something nefarious was afoot, I wanted to put a stop to it.
 
The umpires understood and went to discuss the situation by themselves.  While my staff and I remained outside our dugout wondering if this was the correct decision, I verbalized my concern with a feeling of guilt.
 
“You know,” I said, “I really don’t want to come across as someone who wants to win at all costs.  But I’m afraid that’s what they’re trying to do, and I don’t want to put our kids at a disadvantage.”
 
“Don’t worry,” said Dan, the first base coach and bullpen coach.  “It is your fiduciary duty and responsibility to make this determination.  You did the right thing.”
 
Dan was right.  If the other team was truly trying to cheat, I would be doing my own team a disservice if I didn’t defend my players from a blatant violation of the rules.  Further, I could relax knowing I had chosen to address the situation calmly, coolly, and collectively.  I wasn’t throwing a tantrum or embarrassing anyone, nor was I arguing with an umpire over a judgement call that would likely not result in anything positive; I was merely fulfilling my duty to put my kids in the best possible position to win.  If we were going to lose that day, we should lose fairly, not because our opponent had an illegal advantage over us.
 
The umpires came back to our side and agreed that we could play the game under protest.  Their rationale was the same as mine:  if it was a clerical error by the league, then none of this would matter.  However, if the other team was cheating, the league would be required to step in.  I thanked them again while restating that I didn’t want to come across as the bad guy.  They understood and went to the other team to tell them of their decision.
 
It wasn’t a few moments into their discussion with the other team that one of the opposing coaches started yelling at us from across the field.  “You think we’re cheaters?!?  You don’t have the guts to come over here and say that to our face!!!”  Immediately, I felt like I had made a mistake.  I became ridden with guilt and embarrassment because I had caused a conflict primed with bad behavior and poor sportsmanship, and yet, I was the one questioning whether our opponents were cheating.  I wanted to run and hide.
 
My players began to ask why the opposing coach was yelling at us.  I gathered them around into a tightly packed group so they could hear me over the shouts from across the field.  “Guys,” I said quietly, “I need you to listen to me carefully so I can explain what just happened.”  A serious tenor came across the faces of these young men.  “I crosschecked their lineup card with the roster provided by the league, and I saw names in their lineup that were not listed on the roster, so I asked the umpires to play the game under protest in the event that the other team is trying to cheat.”
 
A tense silence grew among the kids.  They were already nervous because of the weight of this game.  Now, I couldn’t tell if it was worse.
 
“I didn’t want to make that decision,” I continued, “But I wanted the playing field to be level.  You have all worked so hard to get to this point.  If you don’t win today, I want it to be because the other team was better, not because they cheated.”
 
Some of the parents of my kids were gathering near the dugout and could hear what I was saying.  I let them stay purely because I didn’t want to have to explain myself a second time.  It was difficult enough to verbalize it once.
 
“You guys have what it takes to go out there and win, regardless of who is on the other side,” I said.  “The most important thing right now is that you have fun, play hard, and leave everything you’ve got out there today.  I’ll be proud of you no matter what happens, and all I ask is that you win and lose with grace, dignity, and respect.”
 
A new determination was beginning to set in among the kids.  Maybe they were motivated by the fact that someone thought we would be easy to fool.  Perhaps they were strengthened by the idea that another team thought the only way they could defeat us was to cheat.  Regardless, they broke from the huddle with a confidence and a unity I hadn’t seen in them that season.  I sat down and didn’t leave the dugout all game, scared that someone from the opposing side would hurl more hurtful comments my way.
 
We demolished the other team that day, advancing to the next round and eventually to our second consecutive championship.  When the teams shook hands after the game, the same coach who had been yelling prior to the game refused to shake my hand; I still felt horrible that I had to do what I did, but I took some solace in the fact that it was time to go congratulate my team.  The protest no longer mattered since we had won, so it was much ado about nothing.
 
The league president called me the next day to inform me that the situation was, in fact, a clerical error on his part:  he had forgotten to publish the last version of their roster when it was submitted a month prior.  On the one hand, I felt better knowing that nothing nefarious was afoot.  However, on the other hand, I felt bad that I had to make a decision that was interpreted as an accusation of cheating.  I didn’t have the courage to reach out to the other coach because I was afraid that he would misinterpret me again, so I asked the league president to please pass along my apologies if he spoke with him.
 
To this day, I continue to feel bad about having to make that decision and upset the other coach.  But the competitive climate is ripe with people who subscribe to a categorical philosophy:  Win-At-All-Costs (or WAAC).  To the WAAC mentality, no competition is too big or too small:  anything that’s not a victory of the highest caliber is a failure, no matter the cost.  Morality is easily sacrificed for success, and yet, the definition of what is moral is easily distorted.
 
But here’s what’s so crazy about this example:  I felt like I was the WAAC coach, a feeling that didn’t sit well with me.  Obviously, I didn’t know at the time that the situation was just a clerical error, but I genuinely wondered if winning at all costs included my responsibility to ensure the game was played correctly and within the rules.  What would I have sacrificed or ignored if I had kept my mouth shut?  Even stranger is the question of wondering how I would have reacted if I was the coach who was being accused of cheating.  I suppose it worked out in the end, but not without consternation.
 
The WAAC mentality has become so problematic in competition that there is no longer a consistency to who blatantly subscribes to it.  Yes, there are people who stick out like a sore thumb as WAAC competitors, and there are situations where it is obvious that something must be done to combat this.  But there are also people who only dip their toes into the water of this pool to test it out and utilize what they can before succumbing to the dark side of this mentality, perhaps armed with the counter mechanism that the best defense against this is a formidable offense.
 
A similar conflict would arise just prior to the following season when some of the parents of kids on my team saw an opportunity to live vicariously through the victories of their children and demanded they start their own team in the league.  When I opposed the plan because of how it wouldn’t be fair to the other kids on the team, the parents formulated a mob mentality that resulted in one mantra being thrown at me:  they accused me of only caring about winning championships (essentially being a WAAC coach), not the experiences of the kids.  In less than twelve months from the first incident with the opposing coach in the playoff game, the parents who had witnessed my plea for fairness had forgotten what had happened and decided instead to feed off their own WAAC mentality, leaving me to feel like the bad guy in both situations.  They had succumbed to Achievement-By-Proxy Syndrome, a corollary to WAAC where parents experience success as their own when it, in fact, belongs to another person (usually a child).
 
The pain felt by this mentality goes beyond whether a trophy gets raised at the end of the day.  It leaves a deeply psychological stain that damages the desires and outlook of the innocent.  Following the season where the select parents broke away from my team, I stepped down as the manager of my own team because I saw the writing on the wall:  the WAAC coaches would fight harder because of their desire to win, and I didn’t have the energy to oppose them.  It was time to move on and take my talents elsewhere.

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?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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