Before I ever called my first basketball foul, I was a young, successful soccer official. The good news was that, at 22, I still had 23 years before FIFA retirement age to screw up my potential however I chose; the bad news was that I spent a lot of afternoons and evenings working senior-level soccer between teams that were more than weekend warriors: They were serious about it and might have considered intimidating the kid as a valuable, winning strategy. What complicated it was the official shortage at the time had me working the same teams five or six times per season. The good news is I kept getting to go back; the bad news was that the Corinthian notion of familiarity breeding contempt sometimes came true, whether I was good at my job or not.
So, I asked my mentor, a seasoned official, how I should handle going back to the same place all the time; I was still a little insecure about it. His response has stuck with me all the 40-plus years since: “When you walk up before they say a word, look them straight in the eye, smile, and say, ‘Yes, bloody me, again.’”
The equation in basketball these days is, “More games, plus fewer officials, plus more experience equals more exposure to the same schools — and not always pleasantly.” This past season, I went through a 10-day period of seeing the same school three times — two of which went down to the last shot. I had been scheduled for two, then stuck into a third … because. One of the coaches, I’m sure, isn’t happy to see the same players at practice every day. So, I imagine seeing the same referee(s) trot through the door every other night might not have been his idea of variety. My only attitude, in this case, was, “Tough.” I submit that it should be yours, too. Here’s why.
My head, back when I was 22, was where I worried that I didn’t belong, yet. I wasn’t sure that was OK. If you have the right attitude to officiating, you understand two things:
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You’re only as good as your last game, and,
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You are not some deity’s gift to the game.
That means that as an up-and-coming official, I hadn’t built as much credibility as I had capability. I put pressure on myself to be nothing less than top-shelf until the teams grew accustomed to me. I was haunted by the specter of some Sunday afternoon ending in a stack of red cards, and one pink slip I could have avoided with a thicker resume. I think the problem is when we worry about going back to the same place too often, we tend to dwell on this “half-empty” mindset — whether we’re new or have been at it for decades: What will the teams think when they see my sorry tuchis reappear too soon? If it’s “half-full,” you should be saying, “Lucky them.”
If you’re a lousy official, it doesn’t matter where you go, not to mention how often. The cold shoulder before the game will turn into hot heads during the game, psychoanalyzed over a warm beer afterward. It won’t matter if it was your third time back since Christmas or your first time there, ever. If that’s your biography, go to the same place 12 times and avoid annoying any more coaches than you must.
At the other end of the scale, in the perfect world where unicorns run with your herd, your assigner will have used AI to plan everyone’s schedule and evenly distribute exposure. Then, a dearth of winter storms, flu bugs and pulled hammies leaves it that way and you’re vaguely remembered wherever you turn up. In between, stuff happens, and you start remembering the way to Timbuktu High without need of Google Maps. Instead of muttering, “This is my lucky day …,” remind yourself it’s their lucky day; they’ve got you.
If you have a reputation of always doing a great job, it shouldn’t matter if you were just there. Capability and credibility trump all with the good people and don’t change anything with the headhunters: That’s your win. If you’ve done OK (especially if you’re new) when there before, they’re still forming their opinion of you; your attitude is you have another opportunity to build their confidence in you. That’s what you want, isn’t it? That’s your win. If you struggled last time, this is your chance to make it better: That’s your win.
In summary, every visit to the same place should be an opportunity to build your upside. If you don’t see it that way, then maybe you’re right expecting them to burst into tears when you walk out on the floor.
Don’t worry about them. Let them worry about you.
Turn every new visit to an old place into their chance to see you shine. If you go into a gym with any less than an attitude of, “Yes, me, again,” you’re setting the table for your own demise. Instead, exude the positive image of being there to run the game, take care of business, then leave. When they read that in you, they’re apt to conclude you’re either capable or nuts. That gives you enough time to begin rewarding their patience.
Becoming a successful official includes a large helping of managing your reputation. An important part of that reputation is your sustainability in the crowd that’s seen you before. You won’t get far by avoiding the bright lights or hiding in the dark corners of obscurity to get the big games you want. You must go through the front door and make believers of people with regular reminders. Whether it’s three games in three weeks or three games in three years, it doesn’t really matter.
Embrace the reality and inevitability of back-to-back games and turn them into the opportunity they should be. If you’re constantly working on your development, every trip back should be a little bit better rather than a little bit worse.
Tim Sloan, Davenport, Iowa, is a high school football, basketball and volleyball official, and former college football and soccer official.
