My first game of the season was also my first varsity game of the season.
I was assigned as the umpire on the crew, which is the guy who is always seen crouching just behind the linebackers and has long since given up on worrying about getting run over by the athletes. Naturally, it’s larger guys who are asked to work that position. I’m a pretty big fella, so I figure to take my first assignment as a sign I’d best focus on learning all there is to know about being ‘the big man in the middle.’
Opening night of the 2009 season definitely provided some learning opportunities.
More than a few times I have heard the umpire referred to (lovingnly?) as ‘ball bitch.’ This would seem to refer to the fact that a large bulk of the job involves getting the football from either the ball boy running a new ball onto the field or from the preceding play and placing it down for the next snap using information from the wing officials (on the sidelines). While it’s not remarkably difficult a set of tasks, I definitely suffered from a bit of greenness in the position. I found myself moving to the succeeding spot, but waiting for the ball to be delivered to me far too often and not even being all too aware of whether there was a new ball being brought into play. The visiting team, who was from Canada, actually failed to use their own football for most of the first half, instead using the ball already in play. Not sure if that was a function of it being simple snags of early-season operations or the fact that, having traveled from Canada, they might not have even brought someone who could serve in the capacity of ‘ball boy.’ As it was, there were only two coaches on the sideline and otherwise just players from what I could tell. In fact, when I shouted toward the visitors’ sideline for them to bring their ball with them, it was the head coach who grabbed the ball and, with his offense already mostly on the field, threw a terrific spiral to me on the far hash…which I managed to drop with both hands.
Yep. Still got it.
Eventually, I realized it was prudent for me to go beyond the hash marks to fetch the ball and return it back to the middle of the field. The referee would then move to the spot and take the ball from me and spot it, making for a little better tempo. I feel pretty confident that will come a bit easier in the future. I think it was just a matter of it being ten months since my last game and maybe just needing someone to say, “hey, it’s okay to go out there.” Not doing things out of fear of doing the wrong thing just kept me from doing the right thing. Go figure.
One of the other primary functions of the umpire is checking for illegal equipment. This was made a little extra interesting for me by the visitors from Canada as they had the ability to purchase new equipment during their visit to Seattle. There were a whole lot of new gloves on the hands of the players. The team had apparently also made a trip to Qwest Field the night before to see the Seattle Seahawks host the Oakland Raiders in a pre-season game, as there were several players with the bright green sweatbands adorning biceps and elbows. Unfortunately for them, the rules allow sweatbands to be worn only on the wrist, so they all ended up being removed. Luckily, all the gloves were okay.
Unfortunately, I allowed the concern over all the gloves and sweatbands detract me from what I had meant to do which was to check the game balls and instruct the ball boys, all the more to contribute to the earlier issues I mentioned.
After the initial touchdown of the game by the home team, they lined up in the ‘swinging gate’ formation for the try. They got hit for illegal formation, moving them back five yards to the eight yard line. They lined up again, but then the defense was hit with an offsides flag. I nearly moved back to the initial spot for tries, which is the three yard line, but, at the last second, stopped at the four, realizing we needed to go only half the distance to the goal line. As the teams were getting ready to finally play the down, the back judge stepped toward me and told me we needed to be at the three. I responded quickly, “No, half the distance,” which received a smile and nod. For whatever reason, the line judge came running in blowing his whistle and also answering “half the distance.” I guess there is no harm in the communication, but we had already resolved the issue and the back judge was moving back to his position under one of the uprights. If you think something is wrong, it’s always appropriate to stop a play from going in order to correct the problem, but stopping play to explain to someone why we have it right…I might just say to let it go and discuss it after the try if you think a fellow official still has a question. I don’t even think that’s just me.
Unfortunately, the next time we had a five-yard penalty inside the ten yard line against the defense, we marched off five yards. Clearly, the rust wasn’t as easy to knock out of the brain pan as I’d have liked.
I threw a total of two flags on the night, both illegal blocks to the back, both negating long gains by the home team. Both fouls were within steps of the runner, so I felt good about them.
Unfortunately, we had far too many flags for procedural fouls in the game, particularly in the first half. Again, since it was the first game of the season, I’m sure it’s something the teams will ultimately iron out in practice. Even more unfortunate, however, was that we ended up eating three such flags after discussion between the wing officials. Again, with it being the first game of the year, communication might not have been as smooth as I would expect it will be after everyone has more reps, but officials need to look sharp from the opening kickoff of the first game of the season to the final snap of the championship game. It’s a different standard, but we all know and embrace that.
None of this compares to the misfortune visited upon several of the athletes who had to be helped from the field throughout the game.
Early in the game, one of the home team’s players was a little slow to get up. When he tried to push up off the ground, I could see his arms trembling mightily, meaning, to me, he was in a fair amount of pain. I just said, “stay down if you’re hurt,” and signaled for the trainers to come to the field. After working with the player for a few minutes, the male trainer got some of the player’s teammates to help carry him off the field. It looked like he might have had a lower leg injury on which the trainers didn’t want him to put any pressure whatsoever. The female trainer made a comment about them being kept busy, which I found surprising as it was the first time they had come onto the field. It turned out that one of the visiting team’s players had made it off the field under his own power, but had severely dislocated his wrist and had to be taken by aide car for treatment.
The most serious looking situation, however, came when a player stayed down for over 30 minutes as the trainers and, eventually, some paramedics, kept his head and neck stabilized while waiting for another ambulance to arrive, since the first one had taken the player with the wrist injury. The player seemed he was always able to move his hands and legs. I’m not sure if he potentially had a mild concussion or neck injury, but no chances were being taken. The player was reportedly in good spirits and was actually surprised he was going to be taken away, so it likely looked a lot worse in the stands without such reports to be given the slight sense of relief. Nobody really wants to see these athletes get hurt, which should go without saying.
But, as the player was being loaded onto a back board and it seemed imminent he would depart the field and the game would shortly continue, a small group of fans in the stands started singing (you know the song), “Na na na na. Hey hey hey. Goodbye.” It was, frankly, a little shocking. It seemed that someone in the stands put a quick end to it, as it didn’t last long, for which I was thankful. After a minute of consideration, I wondered whether the (presumably) young ladies realized the context of how that song is usually sung at sporting events. I think we can all agree it’s not means in a friendly “Aloha” way.
As the teams finished warming up and returned to the field of play, one of the teammates of the injured player said, “They don’t like us.”
“Who doesn’t like you,” I asked.
“Them,” came the not-entirely-useful clarification.
“The other team,” I probed.
“No,” explained the young Canadian, “those guys are respectful. The fans don’t like us.”
Of course he was likely referring to the singing, so I offered that it were possible those singing didn’t really know what they were doing and maybe didn’t mean any harm.
We continued the game using a running clock after an agreement between the two coaches. The game was pretty much out of hand and, with such a long delay, the running clock was preferable to simply discontinuing the remainder of the match. Of course, the players were likely wanting to play more, but you would assume, especially with how much effort and planning such a trip must involve for the Canadian team, they would want to get as much out of the experience as possible.
On the first play after the delay, the home team connected on a long pass down the sideline for a touchdown, further extending the home team’s lead to a whole lot to absolutely nothing.
The home team did put in some reserves for the fourth quarter, which may have attributed to the visitors piecing together a short touchdown drive after recovering a fumble, assuring they did not make the long drive north completely empty-handed. The only real poor sportsmanship exhibited all night came after the touchdown. There was a brief scuffle between a few players after the failed point-after attempt. The nearest officials were quick to intervene, so it wasn’t much of an issue. It was just unfortunate after the game had gone so far with the players all helping one another up off the ground and being as respectful of each other as you could hope in such a physical contest as the game of football. I think we had one instance of roughing the passer as the only real issue all game long.
All in all, it wasn’t a horrible first game, but I definitely left the field knowing I have a lot of work ahead as I strive to become an umpire with whom the best referees in the association want to work. I’m fairly confident I’ll get there with the guidance of my fellow officials who are generally pretty good with useful feedback. But, with no games today, all I can do is observe some NCAA football as an important part of study and preparation.
That’s how I’ll sell it to myself and/or The Missus, anyhow.
