Tag Archives: Chicago Bears

Respect the Refs

And now, a brief interruption from our normally-scheduled programming:

SOAPBOX ALERT IN EFFECT

I hate the Green Bay Packers. Nothing personal, it’s just that I’m a Chicago Bears fan—it sort of comes with the territory. But as much as I love nothing more than to see the Packers lose, even I have to admit that in last night’s now-infamous Seahawks game, the Packers were robbed. I knew, even as I turned off the TV last night, that this was going to be a hot topic of conversation for a long time.

Imagine my surprise, however, when that crazy finale turned out to be the lead story on the Today show, beating out Iran testing missiles in the Strait of Hormuz. But hey, this is sports, and this replacement refs story has everybody’s undies in a big, nasty bunch.

I watched the story this morning with my children, all of whom are continuously engaged in one sport or another (one just beginning 4th grade football). The longer we watched, the more disturbed I grew, particularly at the photo montage the show put together of  various coaches and players—eyes blazing, faces crimson with fury, angry fingers jabbing at stoic faces—engaging in open hostilities with replacement refs at multiple games.

I asked my kids, “What’s wrong with these pictures? What do we always tell you kids to do when you’re playing your matches?”

They replied in unison, “Respect the refs.” Even my kids know better.

Now, before everyone starts getting wound up, let me say up front, that I agree 100% that the replacement refs have been making some terrible, season-impacting calls, and if your team’s on the receiving end of a call like last night’s touchdown award to the Seahawks, you have every right to be angry.

But what concerned me, as I watched McCarthy and his players storm angrily off the field last night without finishing the game and as I looked at photo after photo this morning of these replacement refs being verbally (and at times, physically) abused by coaches, players, and fans alike, was the abject and blatant lack of respect these men are being shown.

You know, my 4th grader is just starting football this year—he is just beginning to learn the game. His coaches this year, and virtually all of the coaches with whom my kids have worked in every sport, they’ve worked hard to teach those kids a few basic, bedrock principles of good sportsmanship:

If the coach is talking, you take a knee and listen. If a player is hurt, you clap when he gets up. If you knock an opponent down, you extend a hand to help him up. At the end of the game, you shake hands and say “Good game,” even if you lost. And, even if you disagree with their calls, even you think they’re complete idiots for the calls they made that cost you the game, you always, always, always, respect the refs.

Why? Because those black & white stripes represent a tacit agreement between the two teams that these are the guys in charge, and because they’re the ones who stepped forward and donned those shirts, they get to make the calls, some of which are tougher than I would ever want to attempt. Let me tell you, last week, my son’s ref asked for volunteers to man the yard markers during the game. I normally suffer from compulsive volunteeritis, but when I heard that, I ducked down in my chair and pretended I didn’t hear. The mere thought of taking on that kind of responsibility for the outcome of the game terrified me. All refs deserve credit, if only for the simple act of taking responsibility in a way the rest of us avoid, preferring instead to do it safely and remotely from the warm, non-threatening comfort of our armchairs.

Yes, these replacement refs are making mistakes, some of them doozies. I get it. But what all of these red-faced, infuriated coaches, fans, players, and commentators seem to be forgetting is that the replacements aren’t acting out of malice. They have been called in to do a very difficult, pressure-filled job, with very high stakes, in what has become—this season, at least—an incredibly hostile environment. They’re doing the best that they can, with the training and experience they have. Of course they’re not as good—they’re replacements. What did you expect?

If there is blame to be placed, let’s stop hurling it at these hapless but well-intentioned guys who have  taken on this thankless, stressful, difficult role to make sure that we fans still get our weekly football fixes—without them, we’d have no football at all this season. Would that be better? They are only the most visible symptom of the real problem, which is the unresolved strike between the National Football League and the “real” refs.

Those guys? Sheesh. Disgusting. The permanent refs have been locked out by the league over—and maybe I’m simplifying too much here—money. The refs want more, the league doesn’t want to give it to them. Bottom line. Now, color me a little biased, but in my opinion, after the debacle of the last few weeks it seems to me that those refs just might be worth more than anyone truly realized. The salient fact to remember however, is that like it or not, we’re stuck with the replacements, unless we fans are willing to turn off the game, stop buying tickets, etc., and turn up the heat in a way that actually has an impact on the NFL and the permanent refs, because red faces and finger-pointing will not move them one tiny bit. If we’re not willing to walk away from the game to send our message loud and clear that we want this strike over, damn it, then we have to live with the current situation until the two sides figure it out. Right now, what incentive do they have to do so?

Folks, I’m frustrated right along with you, but it’s time to dial things down. It’s time to remember that it’s not the replacement refs at whom you should direct your ire—it’s the league and the “real” refs and their failure to come to an equitable agreement. The guys on the field right now, they’re an easy  and tempting target, but they deserve better than to be used as convenient punching bags by people who would likely perform a thousand times worse in those stripes than the ones currently wearing them.

Place the blame where it’s deserved. In the meantime, cut the replacements some slack. They’re doing their best. All of those guys, replacement or permanent, deserve to be shown respect as authority figures on the field and as human beings off it.

And remember, there are kids watching. What kind of sportsmanship do you want them to learn?

You can’t get too high…

Well, here we go again: another week of so many tantalizingly possible ups, I’m almost certain to come crashing down for one (or more) enormous downs. Hey, everyone–please allow me to introduce our guest blogger for the day, Eeyore! 

Okay, here’s the scoop: First, I heard back from a highly-respected local mentoring press’ Acquisitions Editor that they would be delighted to publish my book. That is exciting news, of course, since this particular press does only publish 1 out of every 9 submissions it receives, they are an award-winning press, and the books I’ve seen are all very high quality. It was definitely balm for my writer’s ego to spend some time reading the editor’s critique and fantasize about moving forward with the process, but I’m just not there yet.

A mentoring press is still, after all, a type of self-publishing, even if this one is more selective than most about its authors, not to mention that it would still cost a pretty chunk of change to get the job done. I’m not dismissing it–just pondering it at the moment.

Then, out of the blue, I received a moving thank-you last week from someone who had read a health-related article of mine from a couple of years ago which prompted them to see a doctor and led to an accurate diagnosis of the individual’s very rare condition. I mean, wow–how much more of a difference in the world can you hope to make in the world as a writer than to, well, sort of, save someone’s life? After that, publication seems sort of secondary.

But only sort of. Because then I participated in a webinar with a literary agent earlier this week, part of which included submitting my first three pages for a critique. After the spate of recent rejections, a critique was all I expected, but on the strength of those three pages, the agent requested a partial review of 30 pages! Again, she could get to page 29 and decide, “Bleh, that’s enough for me,”, but just having had someone ask always feels good.

And then, on that “real job” front: just when I least expected it, I got an e-mail requesting an interview with me for a job I applied to a couple of weeks ago–I was hoping it might be a good enough fit to actually speak with a live human being about it, but given that I’ve sent out dozens of applications over the last year without a single interview being granted, this was a pretty exciting development.

So to recap: thank you from grateful reader; acceptance for publication by mentoring press; request for a partial from a bona fide literary agent; and job interview later this week (and it’s even for something I don’t think I would actually hate doing every day!)

Oh, and of course, my beloved Chicago Bears won this past weekend–it doesn’t get much better than this, does it?

Um, no–and that’s precisely what has me worried now. Stay tuned, everyone.