The unit volleyball tournament is now underway and somehow I was wrangled into being the referee for the entire thing. The guy coordinating the tourney asked me if I would help out by being a line judge. I said sure. Calling on and out was going to be my only responsibility. Then the coordinator found out I had a little bit of volleyball experience and figured I should be referee.
"Uh..." came my hesitant answer.
"What? Your schedule is free, right?" he asked.
"Yeah, but...that's not what I'm worried about."
In my head I'm remembering chairs thrown at a TV for a bad call in a football game. While there aren't any chairs at rec, I'm much closer at hand than the zebras on TV.
"Oh, don't worry about that," the coordinator said, "You've been here long enough. People trust you."
"Alright. If you say so."
I'm in good health as I write this, but it's only the second day. We probably have a week or so left. Most of the complaining comes from the sideline but it really has not been too bad. I've missed some calls but I try to make consistent calls. Because this is a prison tournament, not professional, I don't call every little thing. It's tough to draw the line.
Life as a referee isn't much fun but I see it as a service, as a sacrifice so that no one has to go through the jeers. One more week...
* Yogi Berra
No comments:
Post a Comment