(This is a short story of the book I am writing on my experiences of officiating basketball over 29 years)
Working a high school varsity basketball game is a unique blend of intensity, adrenaline, and, sometimes, sheer comedy. You’ve got the roaring crowd, the players giving it their all, and coaches who act like this game is Game 7 of the NBA Finals. But what really takes the cake, and occasionally the wind out of your sails, is working alongside a micromanaging crew chief.
You know the type—the “helicopter crew chief” who hovers over every call, every rotation, and every move you make. I had the, let’s call it a *distinct* pleasure of working with one such crew chief, and let me tell you, it was an experience I’ll never forget.
The Pre-Game Pep Talk (Or Lack Thereof)
It all started with the pre-game meeting, which, for most of us, is a time to quickly review game protocols, establish some camaraderie, and mentally prepare for the task ahead. But when you’re working with a helicopter crew chief, the pre-game meeting turns into a full-blown lecture.
We were in the locker room, and instead of the usual 10-minute chat, we were subjected to a 30-minute breakdown. This wasn’t just any breakdown—it was a play-by-play of what we were supposed to do in every conceivable situation. The man was pulling out diagrams, for heaven’s sake. It was like attending a seminar on basketball officiating theory, with the added pressure that we’d be tested on this knowledge in about an hour.
As he droned on about proper positioning and how we should handle each coach (as if we hadn’t done this a thousand times before), I couldn’t help but glance at the clock. I half-expected him to pull out a PowerPoint presentation next. My partner and I exchanged a few looks that spoke volumes—“Is this guy for real?” and “Do we really need to go over the entire rulebook?”
But there was no escape. We were in his world now, and like it or not, we were going to play by his rules.
The Tip-Off: When the Real Fun Begins
Finally, the game began, and I thought to myself, “At least now he’ll back off and let us do our job.” Wrong. So wrong. It didn’t take long for the hovering to start. On the first whistle, before I could even get to the table to report the foul, I felt his presence looming beside me. He wasn’t just nearby—he was practically breathing down my neck. “Make sure you communicate that it was a push,” he whispered, as if I had just started officiating yesterday. “Uh, yeah, I got it,” I replied, trying to keep my cool.
Throughout the game, it felt like he was everywhere at once, like some kind of officiating omnipresence. He’d be in my ear about my positioning, then dash over to critique our partner’s mechanics, only to return to micromanage the way I tossed the ball for the inbound pass. It was like playing a game of Whac-A-Mole, except the mole was my crew chief, and instead of a mallet, I had only my patience and a few deep breaths to keep me from snapping.
Helicopter Mode Activated
The peak of helicopter mode came in the third quarter. We had a tight game on our hands—both teams were playing hard, the crowd was into it, and we needed to be sharp. But instead of focusing on the game, I was more concerned with my crew chief popping up at every opportunity to critique my every move.
At one point, I made a call—a blocking foul on the baseline. It was a clear call, and I was confident in it. But before I could even finish reporting it, here he came, swooping in like an overprotective parent. “Make sure you signal with your whole arm, not just your hand,” he said, demonstrating the proper technique like I was an unruly student in need of a lesson.
I wanted to respond with something witty, maybe a quip about how I’d managed to make it this far in my officiating career without his constant supervision, but I bit my tongue. After all, he was the crew chief, and the last thing I needed was to turn this into a power struggle on the court. So, I just smiled, nodded, and kept going.
The Final Stretch: Surviving the Last Quarter
By the time we reached the fourth quarter, I was counting down the minutes until the final buzzer. I’d managed to keep my cool, but my patience was wearing thin. The game was intense, the crowd was loud, and my partner and I were doing everything we could to stay focused. Meanwhile, our crew chief was still in full-on micromanagement mode, commenting on everything from our rotations to how we handled the players.
Finally, the clock hit zero, and the game was over. We had survived, and I hadn’t lost my cool (on the outside, at least). As we walked off the court, I could feel the tension leaving my body. It was like I’d been holding my breath for two hours, and now I could finally exhale.
The Post-Game Revelation
In the locker room after the game, I was expecting another debrief, maybe another lecture on what we could have done better. But to my surprise, our crew chief was all smiles. “Great job out there, guys,” he said, slapping us on the back. “We really worked well together.”
I nearly did a double-take. Was he serious? Had we been in the same game? But there he was, genuinely pleased with how things had gone. It was like all that micromanaging was his way of showing he cared—like a bizarre, overly involved love language.
Then came the kicker. As we were packing up, he turned to me and said, “I’d love to work with you again sometime.” My first thought was, “Is he out of his mind?” But instead, I just smiled and said, “Yeah, sure, that would be great.”
Because here’s the thing: in this line of work, you learn to roll with the punches. Officiating is a crazy world full of even crazier characters, and while you might not always get along with everyone, you find a way to make it work. You survive the helicopter crew chiefs, the overzealous partners, and the unpredictable games because, at the end of the day, it’s all part of the job.
Lessons Learned (With a Side of Laughter)
Looking back, that game with the micromanaging crew chief taught me a few things. It taught me patience, for one. It also taught me the importance of humor in stressful situations. Sometimes, all you can do is laugh (internally, of course) at the absurdity of it all.
But most importantly, it taught me that every game, no matter how challenging, is an opportunity to learn and grow. Sure, I didn’t particularly enjoy being micromanaged for 48 minutes, but I survived. And now, I have a story to tell, a tale of surviving the helicopter crew chief who, despite his quirks, just wanted the best for the game.
So here’s to the micromanagers, the hoverers, and the over-involved crew chiefs out there. You make our job interesting, to say the least. And who knows, maybe one day we’ll end up on the same court again—hopefully with a little more space between us this time. Until then, I’ll keep my whistle ready, my patience intact, and my sense of humor on high alert. After all, officiating is never boring, and that’s just the way I like it.
Guidelines for Dealing with a Micromanaging Crew Chief
After that experience, I’ve come up with a few guidelines for dealing with micromanaging crew chiefs. These tips have saved my sanity more than once and might just help you keep your cool the next time you find yourself under the watchful eye of a helicopter ref.
Stay Calm and Collected: The first step in dealing with any micromanager is to stay calm. It’s easy to get flustered when someone is constantly critiquing your every move, but remember to take deep breaths and maintain your composure. If you let their micromanagement get to you, it’ll only affect your performance on the court.
Acknowledge Their Feedback: Even if their input feels excessive, acknowledge it with a nod or a simple, “Got it.” This can help to diffuse the situation and show that you’re a team player. It’s not about agreeing with everything they say, but about letting them know you’re listening.
Stick to Your Fundamentals: When the micromanaging gets overwhelming, rely on your training and experience. Stick to the basics of officiating that you know well. This will give you confidence in your calls and help you stay focused despite the distractions.
Communicate Your Needs: If there’s something specific that’s hindering your performance—whether it’s the constant hovering or the unsolicited advice—find a diplomatic way to communicate that. A polite, “I appreciate the feedback, but I think I’ve got this covered,” can go a long way in setting boundaries.
Stay Positive and Professional: No matter how frustrating the situation, keep a positive and professional attitude. Remember, this is your job, and how you handle difficult situations reflects on you as an official. Maintaining a good attitude can also help to keep the game running smoothly.
Develop an Escape Plan: After the game, have a plan to make your exit. Whether it’s an excuse about needing to get home early or another commitment, ensure you don’t get trapped in a long post-game debrief. Politely thank the crew chief for their input, and make your exit before they can start dissecting every play.
Learn and Adapt: Use these experiences to grow as an official. While it’s not always pleasant, dealing with difficult partners teaches you resilience and adaptability. Over time, you’ll become better at handling different personalities and situations, which is invaluable in this line of work.
The Silver Lining
Despite the frustrations, there’s a silver lining to working with micromanagers. They teach you patience, resilience, and the art of subtle diplomacy.
You learn how to maintain your composure under pressure, how to manage your own stress levels, and how to keep the game running smoothly even when your partner seems determined to derail it.
In the end, every game, every partner, every experience adds another layer to your officiating toolbox. You become more adaptable, more capable, and more confident in your ability to handle whatever comes your way—even if it’s a micromanaging crew chief who can’t seem to let go of the reins.
Officiating is never boring, and that’s what keeps us coming back. Every game is a new chapter in the ever-evolving saga of sports, and every partner is a new character in that story. And while some characters may drive us a little crazy, they also make the journey all the more interesting. So, here’s to the micromanagers, the over-thinkers, and the control freaks—may we learn from them, survive them, and laugh about it later over a post-game beverage.
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