From left, basketball officials Michael Thorner, Chad Christopherson and Dick Brown research the particulars of the over-and-back rule following a game between Selah and West Valley high schools at the Tourneytown.com Shootout on Jan. 21. Christopherson lost a bet to Brown on the rule interpretation.   GORDON KING/Yakima Herald-Republic

 6 eyes, 3 whistles

Surrounded by critics, referees are hardest on themselves

By PAUL SHUGAR
YAKIMA HERALD-REPUBLIC

Three referees huddle in their post-game locker room, each of them staring intently at his rule book. One reaches into his bag and slips on a pair of reading glasses so he can better see the fine print.

If a coach could see this, he or she would have to crack a joke.

Referee Chad Christopherson, his eye on the basketball, races downcourt during the West Valley-Selah game at the SunDome last month.   GORDON KING/Yakima Herald-Republic

"I'd better get a beer from all three of you," says Chad Christopherson, the head referee who just got done overseeing a West Valley-Selah boys matchup at the Tourneytown.com Shootout on Martin Luther King Jr. Day. "Because I know I'm right."

Christopherson isn't in the majority among his contemporaries on some minutiae regarding the over-and-back rule. The discussion began at halftime in their frigid SunDome locker room but went unresolved, returning them to their rule books after two more quarters.

Jargon terms such as "three points of contact" get tossed around as the trio and one contemporary who observed the game make their cases. In the end, they agree to disagree and settle this at the next meeting among their fellow Yakima Valley officials.

"You're very stubborn," says Michael Thorner, another one of the referees who make up this crew with Christopherson and Dick Brown, who reluctantly wears the spectacles. "But I am too, whenever beer is on the line."

Only a few minutes earlier they were in the middle of a cacophony of cheers and boos, patrolling the hardwood for the event's marquee game. The one common statement standing out among all the possible variations is "You're terrible, ref!" Because whenever these watered-down versions of police officers blow those whistles, seemingly everbody has something to say about why and how every call is incorrect.

"Come on, Dick, let them play," West Valley coach Jim Berndt yells after viewing what he believes to be a small infraction at best. He then lets his words and a sharp glare follow Brown up the floor.

Selah coach Merle McLain doesn't hesitate to find one member of the crew to explain his takes on different block/charge calls. Sometimes he just nods after an explanation; sometimes his shrug says, "I respectfully disagree."

Players in the post discover the line of too much contact when the whistle blows. They hold their hands straight up as signs of innocence, hoping their respective coaches can plead their cases for future battles in the paint.

A guard complains before a 30-second timeout about all the hands frisking him after an inbounds play. "He grabbed me right here," he says, pointing to the back of his jersey.

All these people see something different on every single play, and they want to make sure the referees are in on their personal views. So a lesson in perception is what referees get on game nights because they can't call what they don't see. But as Obi-Wan Kenobi once told a young Luke Skywalker in the original "Star Wars" back in 1977, "Your eyes can deceive you. Don't trust them."

Thorner can't believe his senses when a Selah player stops dribbling, almost hands the ball to the official and then, realizing his error, starts bouncing the ball again like nothing happened. The veteran of eight years whose skills landed him in last year's 2B girls state championship game never halts the play. WV fans howl and Berndt calls Thorner over for an explanation after the next stoppage.

"(Berndt's) like, 'Mike! He was about ready to hand the ball to you and you didn't call a double dribble?'" says Thorner of the exchange. "And I said, 'I apologize, coach, that's one of those ones that, at this level, you're shocked that they do it and you can't get the mind to put the air in the whistle. And all of sudden it's too late.'

"(Berndt) goes, 'Yeah, I don't make any mistakes like those, either.'"

Laughter follows and this is a telling trait of this fraternity, whose members do everything from farming to litigating for their day jobs since a game nets $37 or $39 depending on the classification. If the quips aren't coming out of a referee's mouth, that official probably had a bad game and he or she knows it. Not because the guy in the front row of the student section says, "You're blind" or some assistant coach at the end of the bench asks, "Do you know how to do your job?" All a referee needs is a voice squeaking inside about a bad call to drive him nuts.

"Did you guys see the same thing?" Thorner keeps asking in the locker room about some of his harder decisions.

While players and coaches for both teams were interviewed after the game, association rules don't allow the area's 104 certified officials to answer questions about their actions after contests. This makes referees a misunderstood group among coaches, players and fans, whose bias toward officials often hinges on whether or not their teams come out ahead on the scoreboard.

For this story, the two local associations -- Yakima Valley Basketball Officials Association for boys, the Central Washington Board of Officials for girls -- granted the Yakima Herald-Republic permission to enter the referee's locker room during pre-game, halftime and post-game. What was revealed is how hard these officials work to make sure they do their jobs right, even though many know perfection is unattainable in either their eyes or others.

After going over assignments before the game to make sure they're prepared and focused, their main topic the rest of the way is, "Did I see that right?" Every block or charge is open to interpretation from the group in the sanctity of the locker room. There are times they wonder if a coach or the player is correct about their views. During other moments they wonder if their eyes do need corrective lenses.

One WV player hits the floor hard in the second half right after an inbounds, getting up while expressing shock at a non-call. After the game, members of the trio discuss whether this was a foul or a flop from their respective viewpoints and even ask for outside takes. Again, depending on their points of view, the referees agree to disagree.

Like the Rams and Vikings in their locker rooms, the officials are peeling off their uniforms, revealing the Under Armour underneath and talking about what went right or what went wrong. Although all three struggle to remember the final score, 54-51 West Valley. Their pre-game meetings also aren't much different as they discuss their particular responsibilities on the court and what to expect offensively and defensively from the two teams.

At halftime, points of interest from the first two quarters are discussed. Christopherson notes how Nos. 22 and 32 are battling in the post pretty cleanly, but he wants the referees to make sure no one is getting an advantage. Then any close calls they were fuzzy on are gone over to see if any mistakes were made and how to correct them. Brown even takes a rare preventative strike on the aches and pains he expects from keeping pace with two teams looking for easy points off the fastbreak on the hard SunDome floor.

"You taking those so you can walk tomorrow?" Christopherson asks.

"Yep, Naproxen, prescription strength," Brown replies.

Post-game discussion of the game will continue until they pull away from whatever sports bar or restaurant they gather at later. Many of the referees who did different games during the day will be there, sharing strange sights or calls they saw at the informal workshop. In between tales -- like a referee breaking his finger assessing a technical -- a few stories about family and vacation plans are sprinkled in.

What Brown and Christopherson, two other state-tournament regulars, will be looking for is more contemporaries to take their respective sides on the interpretation of the over-and-back rule. Something neither is letting go of easily.

"That doesn't prove your point," Christopherson says after Brown reads technical language from the rule book.

"Sure it does," Brown says. "Because if you're touching frontcourt and you're not touching backcourt, then you are in frontcourt and so you can't have over and back if you're in frontcourt when you touch the ball.

"We'll ask at the meeting," Christopherson says, a statement he'll keep repeating as he heads toward the showers.

Because a beer tastes better when the referee knows he or she made the best call possible -- whether it was right or not is all a matter of perspective.