Editor, Daily Nexus,
There are a number of things that I could do with my weeknights in Isla Vista, but I choose to referee intramural basketball from 6 to 12. I thought it would be a great way to earn some extra money to donate to Freebirds and SOS Liquor. Most of the time I love what I do, but once in a while, a couple of guys can totally take the fun out it for me.
“Yo dawg, I saw Kobe do this move last night and the ref called it a foul, why didn’t you call it?”
Well, “dawg,” if I pulled in $80 thousand a year to watch Kobe play, I would make the call, too, but the truth of the matter is that I make a pathetic seven dollars a game and I am going to miss some calls. Seven dollars is not worth an hour of people yelling at me. The saddest part of this story is that the man who approached me about not making the call did it in the most civilized way of anybody that game.
Most of the time, players will just look at me and yell. I understand that I am going to miss a call once in a while, but some players have a difficult time getting that into their heads. I am in no way perfect, yet my job demands perfection.
This opinion is not attempting to bash IM sports here at UCSB. I love our IM program and everything it does for us. I am also not attempting to bash being an IM ref because I like doing it most of the time. What I am bashing are the guys who come out for their “A” game and think that it is the difference between life and death. How am I not supposed to find it funny, if you are not going to be able sleep at night because I missed a call that ended your “B” game? It’s funny to me.
The guys who complain the most are those who got cut from their high school freshman team. After every call, some scrub player will approach me telling me that I missed something. I just laugh and shrug it off because the very next time down the court that same guy will throw up an air ball or dribble it off his leg out of bounds. How about you guys worry about your game, because it is your game that is missing, not my calls.
What happened to us? Remember when we played for the love of the game? Remember when your mom came to watch instead of some girl you met on DP last weekend? Remember when you talked to your own team instead of talking trash to some sixth-year on the other team? How about we agree that everyone has a big Jimmy and just leave the refs alone and play IM sports for fun? Who knows, we might even enjoy it a little.