Contempt. Respect. Controversy. Being a referee invites ALL of it.
Abusive comments from spectators, dissent from players, criticism from coaches and managers. Accolades. Brickbats. Bouquets.
Anyone who has stood on the side of the pool with a whistle has had to, at some stage, combat the powerful demotivating influence of contemptuous behaviour. It isn’t why we stand on the side of the pool, even if we do receive recognition sometimes for our efforts. It is, after all, the athletes’ performance that is of primary importance. So why do it? Why do we put ourselves forward to manage the whole process?
Personally, I believed that improving refereeing standards and conditions led to better game performance and improved entertainment for spectators. I felt that we contributed to excellence and were rewarded financially in a game fee set by the NZCPA, and by the continued presence of our national teams in the top ranks at World Championships. I felt that, indirectly, refereeing had a positive impact on top players. If done properly, it prepared them for overseas conditions and situations.
The NZCPA now cannot afford to fund referees. That’s unfortunate, because while there are now more referees, there is also more pressure to perform. Standards of decision making have improved with a professional focus on performance. Expectations have increased. Refereeing seemed to be valued.
This past weekend I dealt with a range of people in my position as a head referee. I felt that a well managed refereeing and duty bench at a tournament made the games run smoothly. Players got to enjoy the results of their training, rather than rue the imposition of an unexpected external influence. I don’t assume that paying referees ensures this happens, but it certainly rewards a job well done for little personal benefit.
In my opinion, it’s when you’re not doing well that people seem to bother putting the effort in. Now that we have enough referees, people say we can’t be paid because they can’t afford us. Rather than an asset, we’re a liability. Rather than an investment, we’re a cost. When did this happen? Why are referees expendable now? Why is payment not supporting performance?
$500 tournament fees.
6 months training.
$200-$500 travel fees.
Regional Ref: $7 per game.
20 minutes you can’t afford to lose? Priceless.
Filed under: Sports
“Do you realise you hate canoe polo?” She looked at me over her glasses, note pad in one hand, pen tilted toward lip.
“I beg your pardon?” As a member of the Auckland men’s team, a devoted follower of over a decade, a regional referee and local personality, I most certainly did not. Canoe Polo was my life. It has been my sport of choice since I was 20 years old, sent me overseas to World Championships representing my country; it has shown me my limits and my potential; introduced me to people I might otherwise never meet. How could I hate my life? What was she saying?
“You hate canoe polo,” she said.
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I had promised myself that I would play until the day I died, if remotely possible. I might have to paddle a bit more slowly, and I was planning on staying in the international scene as a referee until my eyesight failed. I was hoping to be a halfway decent official some day. My entire retirement path involved more involvement, not less. Nothing would stop me!
That’s what I told myself when I was having a bad day. If we lost too many games, if my team hated me, if the opposition loathed me, if I made too many bad calls, I could explain it. My training was half hearted, I didn’t have many friends outside the sport, and my relationship was within the sport and in the shit, but I didn’t want to hear it.
“You shoulders are tense, your facial expression is tense, you are breathing quickly and shallowly, the way you talk is tense and fast and basically, your body language is telling me that you hate it.”
Aghast, I realised she was telling the truth. Fortunately, the session had ended. For the next two years and a bit I have kept her opinion in mind, and fought it. I’ve tried all sorts of ways to stay in the sport, to contribute, to make good of myself and give back what I’ve received, but with every passing session, every minute on the water, I did not succeed or gain more motivation, or make more friends or gain more skills. Slowly but surely, my love for the sport was dying.
I guess I tried to stay because to leave it, would mean I would lose the people I had known for most of my adult life. Having worked so hard to be a good referee, an experienced player (even if not the best), I was loathe to finally be able to afford the game but not the emotions. I told myself I could fake it until my enthusiasm was real. This is how strong and stubborn I can be. I will not quit. In my first year of teaching, editing a book, and losing almost continuously, both on and off the water, even dealing with some fairly heavy health issues, I was devastated- but still playing, still trying.
No, I don’t hate canoe polo. I can’t meet my expectations of performance. I don’t hate canoe polo, but who I’ve become within it.
Perhaps the game will still be an option for me, eventually. It’s about time I gave it up, but I’m not that much better off for losing it.
