Look at Monty McCutchen on the court, and you see an NBA referee near the top of his game. A veteran in his 16th season, he’s climbed the ladder. But see him off the court, and you’ll see something completely different. He’s a husband and father with a unique appreciation for literature, the arts, photography, and climbing.
Sometimes you find a profession. Sometimes it finds you.
For Monty McCutchen, he fell in love. He could have been many things, but he fell in love with officiating basketball, so clearly and completely after a camp in Los Angeles, that he had this to say:
“I just so fell in love with the process of refereeing at that level, and I remember my dad picking me up at the airport on the way back, and just glowing. I wasn’t any good, and I knew that, but I remember telling him, ‘I can do this.’
“I don’t know how to describe that feeling where there’s no way you knew you could do this — that’s not really the issue — but that belief was there that you had found what it is that you wanted to do. I can remember that being a really exciting trip home.”
His dad, Ken, remembers it as a climatic moment as well, the clarity and passion from Monty in recounting, “I can do this.” He also remembers, as only a father can, what led up to it, and how he had to let his son go to start down the path to manhood, one that gives him pride in the fullness of Monty’s experiences.
The father and son enjoy a tight bond, poking fun at each other in a light-hearted way. At the same time, both are serious and understand how much work it takes to be what Ken describes as a “successful human being.” It isn’t simple.
Living Basketball
Monty always loved basketball, according to Ken McCutchen. It was his passion. He coached his son a little, took him to the Naismith Hall of Fame, watched him grow into an all-state player in high school (Texas). “He was highly competitive, but not the tallest guy, so when he got to college, he started reffing,” said Ken. “Somewhere along the line, he got the idea about going to the California NBA camp. It was the first time I saw his passion.
“As a father, you want to see your son do well, but it has to be his aspiration. Monty knew after the first camp that he sucked, but he also knew he had what it took, so he studied and practiced and went back. When your child has that incentive, you encourage them and get out of their way. Monty’s persistence paid off, his clear vision and willingness to pay his dues helped make it happen.”
$600 for a Horse Gets You to the NBA Camp
While the camp paid off in the long run, getting there in the first place proved problematic. “I didn’t have two dimes to rub together. I was working for the Texas Rangers washing down the stadium, all the beer stains and popcorn, doing all that kind of stuff,” Monty recalls.
Ken was getting his Ph.D. at the time, and teaching some classes. “He was sort of changing his life at the time, too,” Monty remembers. “My dad has always owned horses, so he put one out, and got $600 for it if my memory is right. About $375 went to my airline ticket to get me out there Wednesday and the camp started on Friday. I have to spend some of the leftover money on hotel rooms, and figure out I don’t have enough money for the hotel room the last night. And I haven’t even begun to think about eating or any of that kind of stuff.
“So I’m in a hole. I’m standing there in line at this hotel, and up comes Jim Mitchell. Jim Mitchell is an older gentleman, white hair, and he says, ‘Are you here for the camp?’ I said, ‘Yes.’ He said, ‘Come on, I’ve got a room for you.’ He whisked me off, up to the room. I was in there, and after a couple of hours in come two guys — one of them is 6’11” and 280 pounds, and the other one is 6’4”, and this isn’t making any sense to me. It turns out they’re players.”
Fellow NBA official and good friend Joe Crawford remembers other details. “The first thing I remember about Monty was the L.A. summer league. I was a teacher,” said Crawford. “I kinda noticed this guy around, day-in, day-out, and I’m thinking, ‘Who is this guy?’ He has the biggest head I’ve ever seen, and I nicknamed him ‘Horsehead.’ He’s come out to the camp with about 30 bucks in his pocket. I think he slept in his car the day before the camp started. He just blew me away with how much he wanted to be there.
“He asked us to use him for a half, so we put him in, and I could see right away that the guy could ref. We found out he came from Texas, and we became friends after he joined the league, but I really loved him for what he did just to take that chance with his future.”
Finding a place to stay and getting to meet other officials were the least of Monty’s concerns during a follow-up camp in L.A. Ken recalls Monty’s trek across the country, an “innocent young man,” and getting a huge wakeup call in L.A.
“When he gets there, he doesn’t know a whole lot about L.A.,” said Ken. “He hears gunshots outside his room one of the first nights he’s there. He applied for a school teaching job, had his car broken into and someone stole a bunch of his stuff. The police tell him to forget about it because they won’t find anything.”
With all the discouragement, it came as no surprise to Ken that Monty trekked back home to lick his wounds. “He got homesick and came back once,” said Ken, “but he knew his heart wasn’t in Texas. So I told him he had to suck it up and go do it, that he was just homesick and if he didn’t follow his heart now, he’d deny it forever. It was the beginning of his individuality and his identity. He doesn’t give up, he’s like a bulldog.”
Passion and Humor
Passion is fundamental to Monty McCutchen, 43. Whether he’s officiating a preseason game or a tight playoff contest, fellow officials remark on the passion he brings on and off the court.
Similarly, his wife Terri describes Monty’s passion as his most endearing quality, one that drew them together and still binds them closely.
The two met while Terri was pursuing her master’s degree in business administration with an emphasis in marketing from the Anderson School at UCLA. They’d work out together on Saturday mornings at 5 a.m. and the UCLA connection brought them together from the start, even though Monty pursued a job in the Continental Basketball Association (CBA).
“He has an incredible passion for life and adventure,” said Terri. “He doesn’t just go through the motions. He continues to drive and grow in so many aspects of his life — from being a good father, to writing a novel to making a quilt for our kids, daughter, Counti, nine, and our son, Satchel, six. In fact, he’s making his second quilt right now, for Satchel.
“Those qualities drew me to him when we first met, and I see the same intensity in him today. It’s who he is. It describes his core.”
From Ken’s remarks about his son to Joe Crawford jokingly calling Monty “Horsehead,” it’s clear the fondness people have for him is deep, as the barbs fly. Fellow NBA officials Mike “Duke” Callahan and Bennett Salvatore, both close friends, enjoy poking fun at McCutchen as well.
Callahan roomed with Monty in the CBA, and calls McCutchen one of the most genuine people he’s met, treating “everyone courteously, politely and professionally wherever he goes.” But that doesn’t stop him from the friendly jab.
“Whenever I have a speaking engagement, I ask Monty, ‘Whattaya got for me?,’ because he’s a unique man and knows how to write. He’s a great man as long as he’s not burning incense at the morning meeting or going outside to talk to a tree,” Callahan said, laughing.
Salvatore characterizes Monty as a “sponge,” willing to soak up knowledge from all sources. Contrasting his East Coast background, he chides Monty for his “lumberjack” style of entertainment. “He’d climb Mount Everest and take a couple of pictures along the way just for fun,” said Salvatore.
Salvatore and his fellow officials recognize Monty’s country side, his talent as a writer, and passion for photography. “He’s very good with the written word,” said Salvatore. “Sometimes I have to stop him and tell him, ‘Talk to me in basketball terms now.’ His photos are magnificent. You look at them and go, ‘Wow!’”
“He’s a deep guy,” Crawford adds, “into all that Shakespeare and all that sh–. I bust him about it. But I also seek him out. He’s a deep thinker and looks at life different than I do.
“When he got his dream place in San Antonio,” Crawford continues, “he had an open house and he flew me, my wife and Duke down. There were cows going around his yard, and I’m scared to death — I’m from Philly and used to sidewalks. But that’s our Monty.
“He won’t take any BS from you. When he was working on his book, we’d give him a hard time about it. He’d bust me over my theories. He’d go, ‘Joe, you have all these theories about how to stay out of trouble. And you’re in more trouble than anybody. Why is that?’ He’s not anybody’s patsy. He’ll come right back at ya.”
While Ken points out the hard work and dedication Monty put into becoming an NBA official, his persistence is apparent in many other areas. It’s a defining characteristic of who he is.
Renaissance Man
Writing a novel, if you ask any author, is one of the hardest things to accomplish. It’s a nice dream, but fantasy doesn’t always connect with reality. To get from concept to a finished product takes the same long-term dedication that any other successful profession requires. The interesting thing is, Monty has made it to the highest levels of basketball officiating. And he’s written a novel. And he’s an accomplished photographer.
It’s part of the Renaissance Man within him. The roots might have begun on one of those same trips to L.A. at the start of his journey to the NBA. For every person also has to have a backup plan, or one to earn the bread if the passion falters. Monty had been accepted into UCLA’s folklore and mythology master’s program the second year he headed back to the NBA camp in L.A.
“I sort of always envisioned myself maybe being a college professor. I liked folklore, liked mythology, and UCLA had a really good program,” he explains. “I went there to do that and found out I couldn’t afford out-of-state tuition. I was so naïve. L.A. was a maturation process. I had to separate from my father identity-wise and physically. I couldn’t really go into the graduate program that I had worked myself into, so I found a job teaching sixth grade in Los Angeles at a Japanese Catholic parish. Still one of the greatest years of my life was teaching those kids. Twenty-two years old at the time and I still keep in touch with a handful of them today.”
The mythology and folklore dream degree remained just that — a dream — as his NBA career began to move in the right direction. It was 1989, and McCutchen had to make one of those life choices.
“I wanted the folklore and mythology degree,” he said, “and it remains somewhat of a life disappointment to me. But I got invited to the CBA and had to make a choice.”
Making that choice didn’t stop him from continuing his pursuit of literature and writing outside the arenas he was officiating in.
“One of the great things the NBA does is it affords you a good living, an opportunity to be a self-initiator,” said McCutchen, in his 16th season as an NBA official. “If you’re going to be successful in the NBA as an official, you have to be able to manage yourself in a way that is both professional and productive to their needs. There’s not someone there every day telling you to do those things.
“The flip side of that is that when you do manage that time appropriately and well, there’s time to pursue your own interests. Most certainly in the summer there’s an enormous amount of free time. Growing up with a father who was a cultural anthropologist by trade, you learn how language shapes culture and that literature is language shaping the culture. When you grow up under such a man, you realize that it is a large world hindered only by your inability to see what is possible.
“He was constantly hammering on me that while the NBA is a worthwhile goal in life, and is an excellent opportunity to reach a goal, it is not necessarily the end-all to a good identity. It is a contributing factor to a good identity, but it is not the only source of a well-balanced life. He highly encouraged the literature degree, writing and reading.
“… Although the NBA is an incredible, wonderful enterprise to work for, I can’t emphasize that enough, you can’t allow that to become something that stunts your growth, that you don’t take the time to grow and experience the world on a lot of different levels. So why wouldn’t you learn about art, and learn about literature and write a book?”
Which is exactly what he did.
McCutchen takes pains to point out he didn’t write a very good book, “that’s hardly the point. The point is that I enjoyed the process of exploring what it took to write a novel.”
As he puts it facetiously, the fictional piece is “313 glorious pages of my inner workings. It’s called The Bridge to Nowhere, and it’s unpublished.”
Ken would disagree on the title, probably saying Monty’s writing is A Bridge to the World at Large.
“Writing cropped up as a hobby with Monty as an adult, since he’s gained a lot of life experience,” Ken explains. “Reading helps us realize a lot of things beyond our vested self-interest, and writing is the voice that brings it to us, along with a sense of perspective.
“Monty sees himself in the larger world through his writing; it gives him a larger voice. Writing led him to the novel, and I hope he writes another one.
“You know, in the first half of your life, you conquer the world. In the second half, you hope the world doesn’t conquer you. So writing is a way to keep from being conquered. When Monty’s days of reffing are over, he’ll still have a life, still have a voice through his writing. It will give him a presence in the world, and I’m proud of him for that.”
Monty observes, “I did not write War and Peace. But it was a really fun exploration of guilt and redemption about parenthood, mainly because I have those issues from being away from my children so much.”
McCutchen sees his photography in the same vein. He stumbled across some photographic processes from the 1800s and became intrigued, mixing the film in liquid form and pouring it into a glass or tin.
“I really enjoy the slow, methodical pacing that packing with those kinds of cameras takes,” he said. “The NBA is a very fast-calendar, watch-oriented business. You’re here on these days, these times, you’re catching flights, you’re moving from city to city, and that kind of photography is sort of the antithesis of that, where you have to slow down, contemplate things and actually think about things. That process appeals to me.
“Without being overly self-deferent, I think I’m average at it. I would like to get better at both writing and photography, but like anything else, it takes an enormous amount of practice. You don’t write War and Peace by sitting down and not making any mistakes. There aren’t very many Mozarts in life. Most of us have to practice, practice, practice. I’d like to get better at both photography and writing, but for lack of a better term, ‘time’ is at a premium, and you need that in both endeavors.”
The same goes for climbing. He’s climbed Picacho El Diablo (the Devil’s Peak), which is the tallest mountain in Baja Mexico, and loves the challenge. But he is quick not to label himself an expert. “What I do would be an insult to real climbers but I enjoy the infrequent opportunities to challenge myself in this unique sport where mind and body have to pull equal shares to have a successful climb,” said Monty.
It’s the extra endeavors Monty pursues, the fullness of his life, that makes his father beam. “What makes me proudest of all is that Monty’s not just a ref,” said Ken. “I’d be just as proud of him if he was a teacher, photographer or ditch digger. As long as he takes pride in what he does and treats people with respect, everything else is OK.”
Ken talks about the “person” Monty has become. “He made the right choice by not pursuing immediate gratification or taking the easy path,” said Ken. “He didn’t look for the short-term gain, but instead to where his choices would take him down the road. That’s what it means to be a real human — making tough choices and dealing with the consequences. He’s not fake or phony.
“As a parent, you have to make them leave the nest and see if they will fly. Monty had the courage to find himself.”
Ken tells an old Jewish tale that embraces 32 individuals as holding essential goodness in their souls. These people are so fundamentally good that they absorb negative energy. As long as there are exactly 32, the Earth will continue to survive. If it dips to 31, kinetic energy gets out-of-whack and the Earth ends.
“Monty is developing that kind of goodness,” Ken says fondly of his son. “He’s not perfect like a newborn baby looks — that wholeness and goodness you see. But Monty has the capacity to develop that.
“Goodness is accessing your humanity. Monty is flawed, but accepting your nakedness in the world is a step toward that essential goodness. Monty has the capacity for that. It’s about not expecting more than life can deliver.”
“That’s Monty!”
A phrase emerges as you knit the voices together on Monty McCutchen. It’s an exclamation that incorporates his goodness, the peculiar, the searcher, the philosopher, poet, a questioner, writer, photographer, unconventional, iconoclastic, one who stretches his limits. It’s all-encompassing and somehow comes up short. You hear it from his wife, his father, Crawford, Salvatore and Callahan. They say it differently, and it means something different for each of them.
It’s the phrase, “That’s Monty,” said with reverence, kindness, respect, love and a touch of the whimsical. It says everything. And it leaves everything open.
So why not let the man wrap it up himself? Let him talk about the game of basketball and how a “big game” is an “artificial edifice on a building. Tell a coach in the middle of December for a team that’s 10-20 that it’s not a big game. For him, for his team, he’s got goals, it’s a big game. So for me, a big game is an artificial edifice.”
Let him talk about success: “Being a crew chief to me is seeing two people succeed. If three people succeed, the crew succeeds. If the crew succeeds, every individual within the crew can succeed. So being a crew chief is creating an environment that everyone feels comfortable to do their job.”
On a career outside of officiating: “I think I would teach. Teaching is undervalued and a glorious way to engage others. There is little as rewarding as getting others to engage. I’d like to teach high school or college, because that age allows for a certain awareness of life, and the metaphors of literature have more meaning when there’s some life experience to go along with it.”
Listen to Monty philosophize on Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (a 14th-century Middle English romance tale): “In essence, the whole thing is that hard work equals grace, and that there can be no grace without hard work. You hear farmers talk about grace, because there at the end of a 14-hour day, they understand that what’s before them is due to their two hands, and that’s a graceful place to be.
“Refereeing is not something that you roll out the ball, throw it up and get the plays right, and you ride off into the sunset on the white horse. It’s not that kind of profession. It’s graceful because of the hard work you put into it, and you can’t do that without being a referee lifer. I view the refereeing lifer term as a compliment, that you’ve dedicated yourself enough to know those rules like you breathe.”
Hear what he has to say on preparation: “By Aug. 1, you have to start preparing your mind and body for the rigors ahead. The rulebooks are out every night in August and September. Every night. That doesn’t mean I read the entire rulebook every night; it means that you’re starting the process, the routine, of getting prepared.
“When you prepare your mind and body, you’ll be successful. If you show up in October 20 pounds overweight, and you haven’t picked up the rulebook, and you score 75 on your 100-question test, you’re reaping the rewards of the lack of work you did.”
Here’s his view on intimidation and problem-solving: “I have a high sense of confidence that when you’ve worked hard in your profession, you put yourself in a position to do well. You’re not intimidated by games; you’re not intimidated by external forces that may play a role. I view it more as a problem to be solved. That’s not something to dread, that’s something to look forward to. And sometimes you fail at problem-solving. Sometimes you make mistakes and are disappointed in yourself. Sometimes you make mistakes that affect your partners and/or the game. Those are the bad nights. You try to minimize those nights, not have them again.”
There are a lot of different moments that lead to who you are, Monty observes. He sees the events of someone’s life creating a “layering effect,” bits and pieces coming together to form the whole.
Monty McCutchen’s whole is way more than the sum of the parts.
Dave Simon officiated high school and small college basketball for 18 years in Washington, D.C. and Nebraska. He currently resides in Grapevine, TX, and writes a weekly newspaper column, which you can receive by contacting him at davidsimon15@hotmail.com.
