Observer Photo: Patty Hammond The backboard and its edges have been the target of some of the worst booing I’ve received as a basketball referee.
Being the target of booing as a sports official is an occupational hazard. No matter how good a job you do, booing will happen.
Booing is almost unheard of on volleyball courts or baseball fields, but the situation is completely different on the basketball court.
I vividly remember the worst booing I have ever received and to be completely honest, I would have booed myself too.
The incident happened in the gym at Dunkirk Middle School, a historic facility that had balcony seating before undergoing a major renovation decades ago.
My most vivid memory is the vivid image of DMS star Holly Stoyle calling an unquestionable foul with a big smile, then dutifully raising her hand immediately and proudly acknowledging it, even after the rule had long ago been repealed, and her teammates loved her for it.
Because I worked in the evenings, most of the basketball games I refereed were middle school games. When I wasn’t working with the recently deceased Jack Sidlo in Forestville, I was with Leo Bain Jr., who was the coach of the junior team at Cardinal Mindszenty High School, at the little DMS gym off Swan Street.
These two men were my main mentors when I started in the civil service in the 1970s, and I am extremely grateful for the valuable advice I received from them.
At the middle school level, they drilled into me that the most important thing was to learn when not to blow the whistle. Every time I went down the court, it would be easy to catch and whistle a traveling, a three, a double dribble, a palming, or some other infraction.
Too many whistles can drag out a game unnecessarily, turning a one-hour game into a two-hour disaster. Also, games are often played twice, first with the eighth graders playing and then the seventh graders playing. No one — players, coaches, fans, officials, or school custodians — wants to sit through a three- or four-hour whistle fest, especially on a school day.
Anyway, on this memorable late afternoon, the end of an eighth grade game at DMS was mercifully in sight, with the local team losing by a significant margin and me honking my whistle as I cheered for the haphazard match to come to its inevitable end.
As substitutes from both teams came on to the court, play understandably became disorganized. With time running out, the diminutive local Lady Marauder took two furious dribbles, then comically swung herself up five or six steps (the legal limit is two) and raised her hands to the sky in prayer. I momentarily ignored the obvious traveling violation and watched in amazement as the toss careened off the rafters in the middle of the court.
Her target hoop was about 50 feet away, and her toss came from almost the top of the circle, beyond the free-throw line in the backcourt.
Yes, you guessed it. Just after the final buzzer sounded and the gym fell silent, we heard the thud of her precise shot crashing through the net of the basket.
There was another moment of eerie silence, then the inevitable explosion that sent things spiraling into pandemonium.
The Dunkirk bench was overcome with emotion, and the entire team ran onto the court to embrace their new hero. A few fans joined in the celebration, jumping up and down in the middle of the court. Yes, they had lost the game, but they weren’t going to turn down a huge celebration.
That was a really incredible shot, and I’d never seen anything like it, especially coming from a tiny eighth grader.
And the booing? It was all at me, as the spectators noticed me waving sheepishly from the backcourt towards the basket after the official scorekeeper caught my gaze awaiting the final, fateful decision.
The fans really pissed me off. They watched her take all those extra illegal steps, and some even laughed when she panicked at the last moment. But it didn’t matter to this crowd. I was the merciless villain of this article, and I heard the boos long after I’d walked out the gym doors and headed for the locker room.
I didn’t and still don’t oppose them or their booing. Remember, at this level it’s really important to learn when not to blow the whistle.
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Do you have a favorite, funny, strange, best or worst memory relating to officiating, playing or watching amateur sports? Email me at mandpp@hotmail.com and let’s share your memories.
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Bill Hammond is a former sports editor of the Evening Observer.
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