[referee99]

.. who can resist a good tale?

No Complaints
By Stephen Towns

We were in the midst of officiating an awesome game. The Lady Warriors and the Lady Raiders, high school varsity basketball teams, were battling in the championship game of the most prestigious holiday tournament in Richmond, Va. I was the junior official of a three-person crew. The crew chief was a 30-year veteran and my other partner had two years more experience than me.

Going into the fourth quarter it appeared that the Lady Raiders were about to be blown out. They had dug a double-digit hole with no relief in sight. Then it happened. With no apparent warning other than an unforced Lady Warrior turnover, momentum began to swing.

Coaches were yelling, fans were screaming and on the edge of their chairs. With less than 30 seconds to go, the Lady Warriors were up by only four when their star player executed a stunning crossover dribble and drove into the lane. Swish! Then there was a collision; bodies hit the floor. Player control foul. No basket! The arena erupted into a deafening sea of noise!

The Lady Raiders called a timeout. When play resumed, a double screen on the baseline freed up a shooter and she banked a smooth jumper from 15 feet. Lady Warriors up by two; 11 seconds remained! A Lady Warrior pass at the division line was deflected by the defense out of bounds. Another timeout was called. Three seconds remained.

The Lady Raiders were applying all-out pressure as my throw-in count began. Beginning to panic, the Lady Warriors’ star guard sprinted hard toward the thrower with her defender shadowing. As she broke to the left, the pass was lofted to the right.

I believe the defender was as surprised as I was to see a loose ball hovering near the jump circle. Everything switched to slow motion. She snatched the prize possession and dashed toward her basket as the clock ticked down. Two! She took one last dribble. One! She and I were the only ones in the frontcourt. As she spotted and launched, her right foot was clearly planted on the tip of the three-point line.

I pointed down to her feet as I continued toward the endline, looking back over my shoulder. Time seemed frozen. That’s when I saw him, my partner — the one with a couple more years of experience — just approaching midcourt, his arm raised straight in the air indicating a three-point attempt. “No!” I wanted to yell.

Nobody breathed as the highly arched shot was in mid-flight. The horn sounded. The ball landed on the rim and slowly spun in and then out. The shot missed, the game was over and I was furious.

As we hit the tunnel leading to our dressing room, my partners were high-fiving each other for a job well done. I was about to explode! When we reached the dressing room, I couldn’t stand it anymore so I asked him, “How could you do that?”

“Do what?” he replied.

“Indicate a three-pointer,” I snapped. “Did you get a good look at her feet?”

“It was my call,” he argued, “and it was a good attempt!”

“You were beyond midcourt,” I countered. “Didn’t you see me indicate that she was on the line?” We undressed in silence. I showered, wondering if I should’ve just kept quiet. I got dressed, shook hands with the referee and left.

As I was heading to my car, the losing team was boarding its bus in front of me. The head coach congratulated me on the officiating job.

I couldn’t resist, so I said, “Coach, let me ask you something; did you get a look at her feet on that last shot?”

“Why? Was she on the line?” he asked, and then added, smiling, “Steve, if that ball went in and you wiped that basket, I would’ve chased you off the court!”

I simply smiled and kept walking all the while thinking, “I’m sure you would’ve, Coach. I’m sure you would’ve.”

Stephen Towns, an ordained minister, lives in Chester, Va. He is a longtime basketball official, currently working high school and semipro ball. Towns is a motivational speaker for high school and college athletes. This originally appeared in the 8/05 issue of Referee.