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.

Every season, the New York Yankees celebrate HOPE Week.  HOPE, which stands for Helping Others Persevere and Excel, was the brainchild of media relations director Jason Zillo; since its inception in 2009, the Yankees have honored plenty of people and organizations for their work while also donating money to various causes.  Players and coaches alike flock to the opportunity to participate in these events so much that other teams have asked the Yankees if they can hold their own HOPE Week.
 
I’ve always wondered if the Yankees would consider OSIP as a charitable organization that could be worthy of recognition in this program.  However, I’m at peace with the fact that our mission of good sportsmanship is probably not one that any professional sports team would honor because of how easy it might be to fall short of the standards and expectations set.  In other words, the Yankees might support our cause one day, but the next day might find a player ejected over an argument that is the complete antithesis of their recent pledge.  On the surface and without a deep dive into the intricacies of the potential relationship, it could be a public relations nightmare.
 
During HOPE Week in 2025, the Yankees had a day game on Thursday against the Angels.  I began to daydream about the possibility that the Yankees might hop on a bus after the game and travel from the Bronx to central New Jersey to come hang out at one of OSIP’s trivia nights.  In doing so, I began to ask myself one question:  what would I say to the Yankees if they actually came?
 
Well, beyond the wide-eyed awe of being in the presence of these athletes, and aside from the immense gratitude and desire to talk about hitting mechanics with someone like Aaron Judge, I allowed myself to follow through with this dream.  I wagered that the exercise would be therapeutic, like an opportunity to codify random thoughts that swirl in one’s head at the strangest times.  And I’m glad I did:  through this exercise, I was able to simply explain how to compete with good sportsmanship.
 
I imagine I would say the following:
 
-Part of good sportsmanship is always remembering how lucky you are to put on the uniform.  Every professional athlete has been given an opportunity that millions of people would kill to have.  Never forget that there is someone out there who wishes to be where you are now.
 
-Remember how to properly balance the elements of athletic competition with entertainment.  Also remember how to properly balance the elements of dedication, drive, and desire with fun.  Keep a smile on your face.  There is no bad break or tough call that cannot be overcome with a short memory and a jump right back into the game.
 
-There are always young and impressionable minds watching you, either in the stands or on television.  Lead by example.  Even if you disagree with something, there are appropriate ways to handle those disagreements in public so as not to set a bad precedent.
 
-When you act inappropriately, you are essentially telling anyone watching that it’s permissible to act that way.  There are kids and parents alike who think they can treat umpires like garbage because they see you do it.  There are teams who think that plunking hitters and causing benches to empty is just “part of the game.”  Do you have the courage to stand up to that and believe that it’s not?
 
-Play hard.  Leave it all out on the field.  Don’t settle for participation trophies.  But none of this should come at the expense of respect, especially of your opponents or officials.
 
-Every human on that field shares one common bond:  you are all in the same game of life together.
 
I have no idea if the Yankees (or if any professional sports team) would actually adopt my words.  They could easily fall on deaf ears.  But that doesn’t eliminate the need to say them.  OSIP will persevere and excel the more these words are spoken.

What if it were proposed that online sports gambling is bad for sportsmanship and bad for competition?      
 
It's not a legalistic argument.  The laws might've opened the door, but for most of us without legal expertise, the laws are not the issue.      
 
It's not a moralistic or a puritanical argument.  Addiction and debt are real, but gambling itself is not the problem, nor is it new.      
 
Most importantly, the argument that online sports gambling is harmful is not an argument that online sports gambling is the most harmful or the most widespread form of addiction.  Uncomfortable though it may be, Americans have shown to average 7+ hours daily with social media and 4+ added hours with screens generally.  One might argue that this could exceed the hours that any screens are needed for business, emergencies, or keeping in touch with family and friends.  Addiction to these screens, instead, is the vast, "hidden in plain sight" addiction that has isolated and torn our society apart in ways that sports gambling can't even if the makers of their websites tried.  And it's this bigger addiction to screens that has turbocharged online sports gambling.     
 
The historian Timothy Snyder explains that the basis of our algorithms is the behaviorist experiments that were done with pigeons and rats in the 20th Century.  The pigeons and rats were given a lever that sometimes contained food and sometimes did not.  What the scientists conducting the experiment found was that the pigeons and rats kept returning to the lever, not understanding the experiment being done to them.  This is social media, which uses the data from our behavior to hook us, by giving us first what we like and then what we fear.  This is the basis of modern advertising, which alternates between seduction and violence, as well as comfort and shock.  And obviously it is the basis of gambling, where the house always wins, but the customer returns for the rare lever that rewards.      
 
But it's more than just the design model:  it's the conditions.  Snyder highlights five ways we are hooked by algorithms and screens.  "Experimental loneliness ... Intermittent reinforcement ... Confirmation bias ... Social conformity ... [and] Cognitive dissonance."  Intermittent reinforcement:  we already explained.  Experimental loneliness is the fact that with the phone, you can gamble from anywhere, at any time, for anything, at any point in the game, without anyone to discourage you.  Confirmation bias is watching sports regularly and forgetting how these gambling websites have intruded, how they are being pushed, and how they were not pushed until relatively recently.  Social conformity is the gambling websites' and sports' leagues ads portraying gambling in a way that's just fun with your friends, just part of being a fan.  And cognitive dissonance is the knowledge that gambling is risky, that you probably can't afford that bet, but screw it, it's fun, everyone's doing it, and heck, you might get rich.      

So again, it is not just the fact that online sports gambling is legal.  It is that college and professional sports leagues have partnered with online sports gambling websites, plastered their jerseys and arenas with their brands, and made deals with the gambling websites that profit the leagues by encouraging fans to separate themselves from their hard-earned money.  When the business model is not just the leagues making money, but tricking fans into thinking that sports can make the fans money even when they do not, the main interest in sports isn't even the tribal appeal of rooting for a team anymore.  It's the nihilistic pursuit of fake money.      

It doesn't breed fans of the team or fans of the game.  It shatters both parts of the "it's not who wins or loses, it's how you play the game."  It's neither.  The sport has been made incidental.  The gambling is the game.  And there are no rules except you give the gambling websites their money.      
 
The gambler thinks they're on offense, but the house guarantees they are on defense.  For the leagues and the fans, it's a strictly financial affair, in a way that makes overpriced luxury boxes seem an exemplar of sportsmanship by comparison.      
 
But "when we see how [these conditions] work, we can escape [their] predictification.  That will require changing the internet, but it will also require doing other things with our bodies than staring at screens.  It is our move." (Excerpts from Timothy Snyder, 101 to 108, On Freedom, 2024.)

Recently, I was having a conversation with an umpire colleague on the subject of “chirping,” defined as the snarky complaints that come from players, coaches, parents, and fans when they don’t agree with a call made by an umpire.  For example, if an umpire calls a pitch a strike that might be borderline outside, the batter may react by looking back at the umpire and saying something akin to, “Come on, that’s off the plate.”
 
The body language and reaction from the player might cue the coach to mimic him.  “Let’s go, Blue!  Tighten that zone up!”  Additional boos and similar comments may then follow from the crowd.  It’s a silly game of mimicry that attempts to send a message of displeasure while also bonding a team and its fanbase.
 
My colleague was making the point that he expects chirping, not just on close calls like the scenario mentioned, but also when he knows he makes a bad call.  This left me puzzled.  “You expect to be berated when you know you make a bad call?”
 
He answered in the affirmative.  This led me into a wild thought process.
 
(As a side note, I should note that I make a conscious choice to try to keep topics such as religion and politics away from the arena of our organization’s mission unless it’s necessary.  In this instance, I determined that there could be validity in making a connection that warrants this introduction.)
 
When I was in seminary, there was a discussion held at one point about topics surrounding atonement theology and the concepts of sin, repentance, guilt, and shame.  Essentially, the question being posed asked why it was accepted and expected that people were supposed to dwell on their mistakes and sinful nature, begging for absolution from the repetitive nature and infinite cycle of sin.  By contrast, we asked why people would not instead try to focus on love and the corresponding happiness and joy.  Granted, this was never an endorsement to abandon introspection and responsibility for mistakes and errors; rather, it was a shift in focus and mindset.  The entire experience was a very enlightening conversation that sparked something of a revolution in my thinking of religion and spirituality, mainly because I was taught that the doctrine of sin was paramount to our understanding of humanity.  After a prolonged dialogue over time within our liturgical team, we all began to naturally seek to uplift ourselves and each other (not to mention our congregation) instead of reminding everyone of their fallen nature.  We found ourselves believing that the joy and love we could emanate might be the panacea for this perpetual depression; tangible instances of what was defined as sin could be reduced thanks to happiness.
 
Could that same revolution happen in our thinking regarding chirping?
 
When I give clinics on sportsmanship to players, coaches, parents, and fans, one of the questions I ask is, “When an umpire makes an incorrect call, who is the first person to know it was an incorrect call?”  A period of silence usually follows until I reveal the answer:
 
The umpire who made the incorrect call!
 
Every umpire worth his/her salt knows in this situation that the call he/she made is not correct.  Inside the mind of that umpire, a showdown is already beginning where the umpire is berating himself/herself for not making the correct call.  When the expectation is that each umpire begins perfectly and then improves, there will always be a natural internal dialogue where the umpire is already upset when he/she cannot live up to the perfect standard.
 
Thus, what is the point of the chirping that comes from the others who disagree with the call?  Is it a human outlet of stress and frustration?  Is it the demand for restitution when one feels wronged?  Or could it be an attempt to reinforce the penalty that an umpire must receive for not being perfect, like receiving penance for sin?  Whatever the reason, one thing is for sure:  it doesn’t help the umpire.
 
Personally, when I know that I had to make a difficult call, or when I realize I made an incorrect call, the last thing I want to hear is anything coming from the dugout or the stands regarding the opinion of others.  It’s certainly not going to change the call (unless it was a misapplication of the rules that can easily be fixed).  Any judgement on ball vs. strike, fair vs. foul, and safe vs. out that I make simply cannot be changed unless something absurd happens (like if I accidentally get blocked out from properly seeing a tag call and another umpire on the field saw something such as the fielder dropping the ball while making the tag).
 
In fact, I remind those in my clinics of something very important:  chirping over a call can make things worse because the umpire may divert attention from the next call due to the obsession and overthinking of the previous call.  It creates a snowball effect that perpetuates missed calls.
 
Granted, the solution may not be to always be positive.  It doesn’t seem fitting that a coach who just suffered an incorrect call would have the ability to shout, “That’s okay, Blue!  We understand, and we’ll support you and help you.  Let’s be positive and try to focus on the next call!”  However, maybe the compromise is just silence.  Maybe the solution is for those who were wronged to bite their tongue and trust that the umpire is going to try to get better.
 
In short, maybe the thinking of humans needs a little revolution.  Maybe a deviation from putting people down and harping on displeasure can be replaced with something positive, or at least neutral.

During the 2025 baseball scrimmage season, I began a new task for my chapter of evaluating my umpire colleagues from the stands.  My job consisted of going to games, sitting in the bleachers, observing the umpires, taking notes, and then submitting reports.  It’s not that bad of a gig to make a little money to watch baseball!
 
On the first day of this new gig, I was sitting in the stands at a local varsity game watching a scrimmage between two parochial schools.  After about fifteen minutes, a father sitting near me (who had been conversing with some other parents near him) turned to me to ask if I was scouting one of the teams.
 
“I’m scouting umpires,” I replied with a smile.
 
“I thought you looked familiar,” he said.  “You’re an umpire, too, right?”
 
“Yes,” I said.
 
“You know where I remember you from?” he asked as I cringed at his poor grammar.
 
“Perhaps an optometrist’s office?” I joked.
 
“Two years ago,” he replied.  “Remember that call you blew against us?”
 
The smile that was on my face from just a simple exchange and my silly joke was gone.
 
I remembered the game in question well.  However, I was not about to go down that road.  I was technically “on the clock” and had a responsibility to represent my organization in public while I did my job.
 
About fifteen minutes later, I had thankfully seen enough of the varsity game and wanted to go watch the junior varsity game.  I wished the fans well and went on my way.  My walk to the other field, though, was not without deep thought.
 
Why would the parent of a teenager still remember one specific play and one specific call in one specific game from two seasons prior?  I’m sure it’s possible the gentleman could have simply had a memory like an encyclopedia and the social skills of a toddler, which explains why he thought it was a good idea to mention it to me in public.  The more likely reason, however, is that this parent was exhibiting something that points to why our mission at OSIP is terribly important.
 
Parents and fans can frequently live so vicariously through their children and their favorite sports teams.  They project themselves onto another person or another entity so strongly that they physically become part of them.  Much like how a fan of a professional sports team might get personally insulted by a call made by an official during a game, a parent can get personally insulted if the same thing occurs in a situation involving their child.
 
In both scenarios, however, the parents and fans neglect one thing:  the sun will still rise tomorrow.  The call made against your kid or your team is not the end of the world.  No official wakes up in the morning with the desire to make a bad call that upsets parents or fans.  There are an infinite number of other things in life that are more important than that one moment in time and that one experience.
 
Why, then, did this parent feel so strongly about this that he had to mention it to me that day?  The possibilities are endless.  Perhaps the pain of that moment was viciously imprinted on his soul.  Perhaps he sought that one opportunity to claim a pound of flesh for something he considered to be an injustice.  Or perhaps the father wanted to demonstrate his status as a wealthy person (since he was probably paying a large sum of money to send his kid to a parochial school) that he felt it was important to let me know that I was a peon compared to him.
 
Regardless of the true reason, the moral of the story remains the same:  sometimes, maybe we should move beyond these moments and see the forest for the trees.

Following the decision that came down from 2021’s NCAA v. Alston, collegiate athletes can now profit from their name, image, and likeness (NIL) as they participate in sports.  This classifies these student athletes as pro-am (professional amateurs) and allows them to earn non-scholarship income across every division of collegiate sports.  The fallout following this decision has left many questions left to be answered, ranging from the tax implications of this earned income to the philosophical question of whether amateur athletics can still exist.
 
Our culture has already had a questionable relationship with collegiate athletics and the concept of student athletes.  Scholastic athletics (at all levels) were designed to be extensions of the classroom and provide a practicum of learning using concepts like competition and teamwork as the catalyst.  Scholarships were offered as compensation for the athletic services of a young athlete; in other words, the school gives the student a free education (and room and board) in return for playing a sport or sports for the institution (and thus growing the reputation of the school thanks to the publicity of having such a talented athlete).  And yet, prior to the opening of the flood gates with NIL monies, fans consumed college sports in ways that went beyond school spirit:  sports like college football and basketball were heavily monetized thanks to the constant national broadcasting of games.  There are now more sponsored college football bowl games than there are teams with winning records.  Media members analyze these games like the participants were veteran professionals and not inexperienced kids.  And the betting and wagering has practically flipped off any remaining statute that claims it is illegal.
 
With this new dynamic in college sports, it’s only a matter of time before society comes to its senses and realizes that the principles of amateur athletics have dissipated into oblivion.  One might imagine that these student athletes pay no attention to their studies or other scholastic responsibilities regarding their education.  But the gun-slinging will get even dirtier once institutions and collectives discover their limitless amounts of money that can be used to persuade a student athlete to transfer from one school to another on the promise of more compensation.  Unlike professional sports, we currently do not have contracts or salary caps to govern the business of these pro-am athletes, especially under the guise of higher education.
 
However, the pinnacle of this monstrosity resides at the top of the individual athletic departments that oversee these programs.  When athletic directors become as boisterous as the rowdy fans in attendance and forget their primary responsibility as the adults who are responsible for the education of these kids, it’s easy to see how college athletics have fully mutated into a bastardized minor league affiliate for the professional sports they feed.
 
Take Mark Harlan as an example.  The athletic director at the University of Utah, he came under fire when he made public comments about the officiating during a football game between Utah and BYU at the end of 2024.  The comments referenced how Utah’s loss was the result of the game being “stolen” due to calls made by the officials.  The Big 12 promptly fined Harlan $40,000 for his remarks.
 
A few months later, Kirby Hocutt became the next poster child.  The athletic director at Texas Tech, he made public comments about the officials’ decision to eject one of his star players from a basketball game due to a flagrant foul that did not appear to be intentional.  Hocutt’s comments did not appear to be as demonstrative as Harlan’s, which explains why there was no news regarding a hefty fine.  However, it doesn’t negate the fact that Hocutt felt it was necessary to make public comments about a call in a college basketball game that could have been kept private instead of looking to discredit the officials in the game.  (By the way, he made the comments publicly while the game was still happening.)
 
The question is not whether the person at the top of the hierarchy can hold or express an opinion normally reserved for a fan.  The question instead concerns the fact that the people at the top of the hierarchy might have forgotten their prime responsibility in the equation:  to steward the education of student athletes through the medium of sports, and thus setting the example for the players, coaches, parents, and fans to do the same.  Sports at all levels and in all forms come with tough breaks, and the lessons to be learned from them concern the athlete’s ability to overcome them, not to complain about them.  It’s no coincidence that the athletic directors have resorted to this behavior in a culture where the money in college sports has become weaponized.  After all, maybe a star athlete would be easily persuaded to take more money at another school if his ego gets hurt when the athletic director tells the student athlete to respect the officials, the coaches, and the other adults in the room.
 
Obviously, these two examples are not the sole times that athletic directors at colleges have spouted off in ways that draw negative attention or fines.  But they are two very recent examples in a world where college sports have become a new business filled with potential mercenaries.  In a capitalist society where social influencers, athletes, and other celebrities can (and have the right to) garner more attention and wealth than the hard-working people who grind each day to earn a living and provide for families, the least these administrators can do is temper their overzealous fandom and put their blessings in perspective.  However, the opposite may be more disastrous:  not acting inappropriately could result in the loss of future stars, sponsorship monies, and one’s job.
 
What’s more important:  the morals or the money?

As 2025 kicks into gear, I frequently find myself reflecting on how 2024 ended in terms of sportsmanship and competition.  Whether it was the presidential election or some of the stories that swamped the world of sports, I wondered how things would be if situations were different.  In each scenario, what if the shoe were on the other foot?  Or what if just one little detail were different?  How would that change the perception of the incident?
 
Regardless of who won and lost as well as how it happened, we can be sure of one thing:  the polar extremes representing each side have become twisted and deranged because we tend to believe that the loudest voice is the victorious voice.  What is interesting, though, is that it appears the loudest voices have a strategy that might overlap with collective bargaining:  shout the loudest and speak the most extreme opinions while tacitly being comfortable with gaining only a fraction of the demands met.  If we use a sports analogy, kick the ball as far downfield as possible, but be content if it is returned a few yards so long as it’s out of our end of the field.  For example, pick any political election this century that has national implications and watch how the rhetoric of the ads and debates will include obtuse statements and ludicrous proposals; however, the sole goal of these ads is the same as if a campaign was run without them:  that one political party wins an elected seat.  In other words, feel free to say whatever ridiculous sentence so long as doing so gets the vote of the people and your candidate elected.  If it’s twisted or somehow false, let the public do the homework to come to that conclusion; the odds are that they won’t, and we’ll have them believing whatever we want.  After that, it doesn’t matter what will happen because we won, they lost, and we prevented our opponents from being in control.  (What’s sad, though, is that we are currently living in a time one might argue that we don’t really know what is true, and it’s equally difficult to discover the truth.)
 
Similarly, watch any legal drama to see a lawyer in a courtroom pose a statement or a question to someone on the witness stand that is a blatant step out of bounds in the trial process.  The statement or question will most likely be immediately withdrawn if the opposing attorney objects or if the judge recognizes it as inappropriate.  The rules of the game might have rectified a wrong, but the human jury still had the seed planted that could discredit the witness and sway a vote.
 
This has occurred frequently in labor negotiations in sports.  During the lockout that preceded the 2022 MLB season, both Rob Manfred (MLB Commissioner) and Tony Clark (head of the MLBPA) would frequently find themselves in front of a microphone speaking to the media spewing statements with an altered tenor to sway the opinions of the public with the goal of creating an intangible pressure on the opposing side to cave in their demands.  It was a classic example of pulling out all the stops in an extreme way just to help negotiate a compromise.
 
Perhaps the explanation for these tactics might include the fact that doing things the moral way isn’t yielding the desired results, leading the participants to believe they must fight fire with fire.  “We tried playing nice, but it wasn’t working, so now we must play dirty.”  But fighting fire with fire only results in a bigger mess.  Like many issues in the world of sportsmanship, the only true solution is to make the individual choice to do the right thing.  We may not be able to control the actions of those playing the game, but we can control our own responses to those actions.
 
During the 1960 US Presidential Election when Kennedy defeated Nixon, footage from a Presidential Debate showed both Kennedy and Nixon calmly complimenting each other while informing the audience that both candidates deeply cared for our country, wanting it and the people of the nation to prosper.  The difference, according to the candidates, was in the methods of how to achieve the same goal.  Fast forward to a more recent debate of your choice and watch the exact opposite happen.  Amplified volume and finger pointing have replaced civil discourse, exploiting the extremes through fear and threats to convince constituents that one candidate is the savior, and the other is the devil.
 
And what if this phenomenon were examined in sports?  On the heels of what occurred following the annual college football game between Ohio State and Michigan, what if a state senator from Michigan introduced a bill to make flag planting at midfield a felony instead of a state senator from Ohio?  What if Ohio State had won on its own field and planted its own flag before the same state representative introduced the same bill in Ohio?  Would the extremists on the opposing side still be calling them sore losers?  Does it matter that Ohio State, the losing team in this specific contest, went on to compete for a national title while Michigan did not?  The slightest change in detail changes the entire situation, which shows why it may be better to pull the lens back and see the forest for the trees rather than jump on an extreme bandwagon.
 
Do we have the individual ability to become vulnerable and consider the thoughts and opinions of our opponents without endorsing them?  Doing so does not mean we agree with them; rather, it means that we are trying to understand why they feel the way they do and to see if there are any commonalities.  After all, we are still free to disagree with our opponents after we hear what they have to say.  But making the slightest alteration to how we individually formulate opinions may yield positive results. 
 
The solution (as well as the truth) is usually somewhere in the middle.  Whether the topic is trans athletes or immigration, I’d wager that a compromise could be found if we took the time to listen to each other rather than discrediting our opponents and vociferously shouting our own opinion.

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

“Your trivia questions are too hard.”
 
“I don’t agree with that answer.”
 
“I don’t like this prize.”
 
“I think the team over there is cheating.”
 
“What do you mean that you didn’t give us points for that answer?”
 
“I didn’t like your joke.”
 
“Why’d the restaurant change the menu?”
 
Guess how many times I’ve heard these sentences while hosting free trivia nights for OSIP.  (I don’t even have control over the last one!)
 
The overwhelming majority of the time, the regulars who attend OSIP’s free trivia nights are fantastic.  They’ve helped us build a community of people who understand our cause and why we fight for our mission.  I guess I just don’t understand the few times when people say the things they do (like the statements above).
 
Would you believe we’ve had to develop a rules sheet for trivia and distribute it to each team’s table?  Would you believe we’ve had to amend it a few times because the rules have to keep being updated due to new situations we encounter?  Free trivia sponsored by a sportsmanship charity shouldn’t be this difficult!  It’s amazing to me how seriously people take these free trivia nights. 
 
Here's a sample of what has been added to our rules sheet:
 
-Do not use electronic devices such as your phone to research answers.
 
-Don’t shout the answers out.
 
-Do not name your team with an inappropriate name that promotes bad sportsmanship.
 
-Do not approach the host with your phone claiming you have the correct answer.
 
-Be positive and supportive.  Cheer for your team, not against other teams (or boo people).
 
-Be supportive of the venue hosting trivia.  Purchase food and drinks.  Tip the staff 20%.
 
I’d like to believe that some of these items fall under the heading of common sense, but I’m sure not everyone would agree with me on this.

The part that gets me the most frustrated is the part that I will have to frequently quote directly from the rules sheet.  When a team violates one of the rules listed above, I must remind the entire room that every person present is here of their own volition.  Nobody forced them to attend, and it was free to play.  This usually gets people to relax and laugh at themselves, but every now and then, it’s the nail in the coffin to ensure that someone’s not coming back next week or next month.
 
Again, I love hosting trivia.  I love the regulars who come and play.  And I love championing our message through this gentle and simple application of good sportsmanship.  I guess I just wish more people were more cognizant of these things like I am.
 
I don’t understand the teams that don’t order food or drinks when they come to play.  People will nurse a glass of water for the evening, then they’ll depart without leaving gratuity for the server who kept refilling their water.  They treat the waitstaff like servants who are simply supposed to take care of them and shouldn’t expect to be tipped appropriately.
 
I don’t understand the teams that don’t come back because they think the questions are too hard.  They take pride in their ignorance and believe they aren’t having fun if they’re not getting the answers correct.  Rather than consider the option of inviting more friends to join them next time who might know the answers, they immediately succumb to defeat and decide it’s not worth their time to return.
 
I don’t understand the teams that treat the waitstaff like garbage, especially when the restaurant is overwhelmed.  I’ve witnessed some servers resort to tears because of the attitude of customers, and I wish that I never had witnessed the few times that guests were asked not to return to an establishment over that.  It makes me feel bad because it becomes a reflection on OSIP because people can’t separate the establishment hosting trivia from the nonprofit providing it.  (What could even be worse is when people don’t realize they’re treating people like garbage!)
 
I don’t understand the teams that cheat.  I had a team cheat once by sitting in two different locations in a restaurant so they could have one table pretending to not play trivia and look up the answers and then text it to the table that was playing.  Now, I purposefully include questions that are nearly impossible to ensure that people aren’t cheating.
 
And I don’t understand the venues that have discontinued trivia services and blamed us when we have so many success stories.  Some venues fail to advertise, then wonder why people don’t come out to play trivia.  Some venues have poor employee morale or just a terrible product, setting the event up for failure before it even starts.  Some venues are micromanagers, seeking to tweak the trivia product or rejecting it due to the slightest difference of opinion.
 
However, I still love doing it.  And I hope that the trivia regulars who read this understand how passionate I am about our cause, our mission, and our programs.
 
I hope you can make a resolution for 2025 to be a part of the solution as we redouble our efforts to treat others the way we would wish to be treated, especially in the arena of competition.

As I was contemplating what a non-sports fan could discuss, I came to the realization that poor sportsmanship doesn’t have to be limited to organized professional and amateur sporting events. 

I am not a sports fan.  I don’t play sports, I don’t watch or listen to sports, I don’t attend any sporting events, and when someone starts talking about sports, I try to make a hasty exit from the room.

What do I like?  Reading.  I love physical books, e-books, and audiobooks, which is why I embrace the concept of the Little Free Libraries.  These are small boxes located in front of private homes where books people no longer want are donated and other people “borrow” those books.  But when book bandits come by and take all the books to resell, that is poor sportsmanship.  They are not partaking of the shared experience; instead, they are depriving the community to earn a quick (and miniscule) buck.  This leads people to take drastic measures to prevent this from continuing, such as blacking out the bar code on the back of the book, stamping the book with “Little Free Library, Never Sold, Always Shared”, and installing cameras.  How sad that there needs to be repercussions for book thievery.

Think of the other similar examples that can happen on the front porch or lawn of a home.  There are stories of political signs on lawns that are stolen, vandalized, or even destroyed when cars drive onto lawns to smush them into the ground, all due to differences in political opinion.  Halloween brings about the worst of people when the honor system is used to leave candy outside the door, only to have treats dumped into one person’s bag, leaving nothing for anyone else.

There are undoubtedly more examples of poor sportsmanship that do not involve sports.  Can you think of some?