Saturday, June 13, 2009

Game Log 6/13/2009: Damn it. I'm buying another T-shirt.

The first game today was very high quality. Summer only minor coach whining. I was slowing down at the spot--at least when I remembered, which was often--and the calls were all fine.

Then, I made a mistake that I swore this season that I wouldn't make again--and it was a big, impactful call with less than a minute left.

Shit. Damn, hell, and shit.

Blue is down by one. They're playing good defense. I hear people shouting "Foul!" There's minimal contact. I call a foul.

They weren't fouling.

Not much to say here, except it was probably the worst single call I've made in years. It was out of my area, it was wrong strategically, it was wrong factually, and I'm supposed to have learned that.

Massref very kindly told me that he's "been there, done that, bought the T-shirt" last time I made this error. But, for whatever reason, I guess I needed a second screw-up to get it in my head.

Damn. Damn, hell, shit, and damn.

I did the only thing I could do. I told the coach I'd blown the call. He was, needless to say, unhappy (unlike the incredibly classy guy in January). His team wasn't removed from the game...had the ball with a 2-point deficit (the kid only made one of two free throws) with 45 seconds left, then the ball with a 3-point deficit and 20 seconds to play.

But the coach was fixated on the call, actually shouting "Where's the makeup call? Where's the makeup call?"

Coach, I'll get them wrong on accident occasionally--and on very rare occasion s(today, alas, being one), egregiously. But I will never, ever get one wrong on purpose.

Anyway, the second game was a little bit of a blur. It was a blowout, and not much went wrong. I won't say my focus was 100%, but it was good enough.

It'd be nice if I could get right back out there to get this taste out of my mouth, but I have nothing on the schedule. I'll just re-commit to handing this situation better, and I'll be secretly thankful that I got to learn in a summer game instead of a big one later on.

THINGS I DID WELL: Bounced back from screwup, managed game after screwing it up, handled clock situations, slowed down at spot
THINGS TO WORK ON: Does three T-shirts mean that I need a hotel in the "been there, done that" location?

NEXT UP: As much as I hate summer ball, I wish I had a game right around the corner to wipe this one away. But, alas, I likely won't work again until November, unless there's some other tournament rolling into town..

Game Log 6/12/2009: Two summer blowouts

Ragged girls' varsity ball last night--twenty point games each. I focused primarily on slowing down at the spot, and my partner said I succeeded at that...but was too quick at the table. No sweat on that.

It was a little hard going to a two-person game, but I adjusted. It was harder for my partner.

Two notable occurrences:

1. In my first game, I was new lead when there was a big collision well behind me, at about halfcourt (as I was approaching the baseline). It was C's call all the way...but alas, there was no C. The coach of one of the teams who felt he was wronged ran out onto the floor. Not a the center circle. My partner did not blow his whistle. (The ball eventually wound up out of bounds...long after the coach was on the floor.)

No T, no whistle to talk, no NOTHING. I was amazed, but could do next to nothing about it. I don't care that it was a coach getting blown out, or that the partner felt he missed the call, or that it was a summer tournament. I can't believe he had nothing.

2. In the second game, I had the team from the school where I teach. Normally, I dodge them, but it was summer ball and I couldn't find anyone to trade with. That, and the team was outgunned (as even the coach admitted). So I simply did the game.

There was one very mouthy parent from my HS. Maybe I don't like people giving my school a bad name, but she was bad. Lacking a gym administrator, I went to the coach and had the following exchange:

"Coach, that parent is really bugging me."
"That's not my job."
"It's not my job, Coach."

A couple of trips down the floor later, I heard the coach say something like "We have to work together..." and the parent didn't speak again. So he shut her up. It was for the wrong reason...not "hey, you're making yourself, your team, and your school look bad," but it was for "hey, make my work day easier." Not that I'd ever have held anything against the coach.

On a subsequent free throw, the coach/co-worker cracked me up by whispering in my ear: "I have to listen to her ass all year!"

The games: uneventful. Ragged, a lot of fouls, but uneventful.

GOOD: I slowed down at the spot, managed blowouts
WORK ON: Slower at table.

NEXT: Has already happened. I had two games today, but didn't get a shot to blog about last night's until now. Bedtime for the boy took precedence.

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