Monday, July 5, 2010
Thursday, April 29, 2010
A Day in the Life- Reffing
I needed money.
$1060, specifically. I needed it by the first weeks of summer so I could go to Sports Broadcasting Camp in July. Big money, especially if you are an eighth grader who isn't allowed to get a work permit.
Instead of working retail, I decided to become a referee for a local recreational inline hockey league I played in. There were four divisions- 8U, 10U, 13U, and 18U. I'd only been playing since I was eleven and was taught to play in 13U. Players from 18U reffed our games; usually the same two guys everytime. Our league was like a family. If you hung out at the rink enough, you started to know everybody. It was great.
I asked my mom if I could ref. She said yes. I went to the classes, bought a whistle and was soon assigned to ref a few 8U games a week, maybe a 10U game if I got lucky.
My first season I made a few errors but I learned. It was a trial-and-error experience. I might miss a call here or there or be at the wrong end of the rink. By the spring season, I was doing much better.
Reffing is fun. I'm not going to bother thinking of a better word for 'fun'. It simply is fun. Let me run through a day in the life of a ref.
10:30- I wake up to my mother telling me I have a game at noon and need to wake up, shower and get dressed. I go back to sleep.
11:25- I'm running around at the last minute trying to find my hockey pants. Turns out they were in a laundry basket in my brother's room. I hastily grab them and a water bottle and run out the door.
11:38- I pull up to the rink and grab my stick, helmet, pants and whistle. My mom drives off and doesn't bother watching me ref, which I'm cool with. The one time I allowed her to stay, she had her phone out taking pictures of me that probably ended up on her Facebook. Hey, at least I wasn't tagged standing there like a zebra on skates.
11:42- I'm in the equipment shed. This early in the morning, there might be a game going on, but it depends. If there is, I eavesdrop on the hockey moms. If there isn't, I hurry to get ready so I can skate on the empty rink.
11:49- I'm sitting in the shed with a kid in a green uniform. We're eating candy. There was a giant bag of candy I found next to the toolbox. He gives me all the good candy. He eats the stuff I don't like. By the time his dad has come and found us eating, his kid is on a sugar high and I'm stuffing candy in my pockets to eat between intermissions.
11:54- It's around this time that I am being told to get out onto the rink because they're starting in six minutes. In case these hockey mom's didn't get the memo, I'm the referee. The game can't start without me. But in order to get my $10 I drag myself out there. Teams are in warm-ups. I recognize the coach's kid from reffing, grab my stick, and start playing with him.
11:58- After being scolded by the coaches, I blow my whistle and yell "TWO MINUTES!" meaning they have two more minutes of warm-ups. They never listen.
11:59- I'm over at the parents side, trying to scrape up a scorekeeper. Finally, a half bald man who doesn't know a thing about hockey volunteers.
12:01- The puck should've dropped by now, but I was too busy explaining how to keep score to baldie. Then I had to get game pucks. My fellow referee, a kid who used to be on my team, mumbles this is only his second game reffing, so I have to be head ref. I make baldie keep time and proceed to center with a puck. I point to the goalie on the right side of the rink. It's standard to make sure they're ready. "GOALIE READY?" I yell. He raises his stick. I turn to my left. "GOALIE READY?" He is off looking at the soccer fields to his left. I repeat myself. He doesn't answer. I mumble, put my whistle in my mouth, and drop the puck. It got hit to the boards.
First Period- Two goals score, one by the green team, one by the blue team. I wasn't really looking when blue scored, so all I know is #79 scored. Assist? When in doubt, say there wasn't one.
First Intermission- I blow my whistle, and yell "PERIOD!". I start the clock for two minutes. Depending on the other ref, I might take my stick and shoot around. I start playing with the puck and shoot like Wayne Gretzky. Satisfied with looking like a total show-off, I skate back to the scorekeepers table to check time. With thirteen seconds to spare, I skate around and blow my whistle to indicate the intermission is up. Thirty (patient) seconds later, blue is still on the bench. I skate over, coach tells me to wait a second. Two minutes later, we're dropping the puck. That is after standing at center ice, waiting for blue and talking to a kid named Davey. Davey is my personal favorite. He doesn't stop talking so I make him put my mouth guard in.
Second Period- I played baseball for a lot of my childhood. Parents can be horrible at baseball. Not mine, but other parents and coaches. This doesn't happen at hockey, although sometimes this one coach chides me. I ignore it, because techniqually I am in charge. (NOTE: Ugly email about quality of reffing sent out a few days later. Love you too, Mr. Blue Coach)
Second period isn't too shabby, although I'm hungry. All I hear in my mind is J'ai hyper faim. J'ai hyper faim. Je voudrais un omlette. That's French for "I'm very hungry, I'm very hungry. I want an omlette."
Second Intermission- I blow the whistle and skate to get the puck. Davey decides to play around with it. He starts skating away from me and dumps it in a corner all the way at the other end. He laughs and his coach doesn't even notice. So not worth $10.
Third Period- We start a little more timely as I realize in fourteen minutes I'll be getting paid. It's more of the same; eight year olds skating and falling over and shoving each other. The green goalie starts crying because the other team scored four goals in about five minutes. I crouch down and talk to him. He wants me to send all the kids who scored on him to the sin bin. I can't help but smile.
The rest of the third goes rather smoothly and it's enlightened when I notice one of the green players pretending he's a dinosaur. Everytime he got near the puck, he made dino sounds. I have a new favorite.
It's almost the end of the game. I'm near the center line, closer to green bench. I notice Davey standing on the other side of the boards, banging on the door to the bench. "Knock, knock!" He taunts. I laugh.
1:03- I blow my whistle and yell, "GAME!" indicating the end of the game. I stand on the ice and make sure they shake hands. I skate over to green coach and awkwardly ask for my ten dollars. He asks me if Davey was being annoying. I tell him about the knock-knock thing and skate back to the equipment shed. I start changing back into basketball shorts, old baseball shirt, and hat because my hair is disgusting from skating and sweating under my helmet. Davey walks by. He sticks his tongue out. Eventually I find my mom's car, stick my hockey stuff in the back and take shotgun. I still hear J'ai hyper faim, j'ai hyper faim, j'ai hyper faim in my head. We stop at 7-11 and it's all good.....until I find out I have to be back at the rink for a 5:00 10U game, which sucks, because the kids all know I'm only two or three years older and they actually skate and shoot and trip.
MORE "A DAY IN THE LIFE" POSTS TO FOLLOW
$1060, specifically. I needed it by the first weeks of summer so I could go to Sports Broadcasting Camp in July. Big money, especially if you are an eighth grader who isn't allowed to get a work permit.
Instead of working retail, I decided to become a referee for a local recreational inline hockey league I played in. There were four divisions- 8U, 10U, 13U, and 18U. I'd only been playing since I was eleven and was taught to play in 13U. Players from 18U reffed our games; usually the same two guys everytime. Our league was like a family. If you hung out at the rink enough, you started to know everybody. It was great.
I asked my mom if I could ref. She said yes. I went to the classes, bought a whistle and was soon assigned to ref a few 8U games a week, maybe a 10U game if I got lucky.
My first season I made a few errors but I learned. It was a trial-and-error experience. I might miss a call here or there or be at the wrong end of the rink. By the spring season, I was doing much better.
Reffing is fun. I'm not going to bother thinking of a better word for 'fun'. It simply is fun. Let me run through a day in the life of a ref.
10:30- I wake up to my mother telling me I have a game at noon and need to wake up, shower and get dressed. I go back to sleep.
11:25- I'm running around at the last minute trying to find my hockey pants. Turns out they were in a laundry basket in my brother's room. I hastily grab them and a water bottle and run out the door.
11:38- I pull up to the rink and grab my stick, helmet, pants and whistle. My mom drives off and doesn't bother watching me ref, which I'm cool with. The one time I allowed her to stay, she had her phone out taking pictures of me that probably ended up on her Facebook. Hey, at least I wasn't tagged standing there like a zebra on skates.
11:42- I'm in the equipment shed. This early in the morning, there might be a game going on, but it depends. If there is, I eavesdrop on the hockey moms. If there isn't, I hurry to get ready so I can skate on the empty rink.
11:49- I'm sitting in the shed with a kid in a green uniform. We're eating candy. There was a giant bag of candy I found next to the toolbox. He gives me all the good candy. He eats the stuff I don't like. By the time his dad has come and found us eating, his kid is on a sugar high and I'm stuffing candy in my pockets to eat between intermissions.
11:54- It's around this time that I am being told to get out onto the rink because they're starting in six minutes. In case these hockey mom's didn't get the memo, I'm the referee. The game can't start without me. But in order to get my $10 I drag myself out there. Teams are in warm-ups. I recognize the coach's kid from reffing, grab my stick, and start playing with him.
11:58- After being scolded by the coaches, I blow my whistle and yell "TWO MINUTES!" meaning they have two more minutes of warm-ups. They never listen.
11:59- I'm over at the parents side, trying to scrape up a scorekeeper. Finally, a half bald man who doesn't know a thing about hockey volunteers.
12:01- The puck should've dropped by now, but I was too busy explaining how to keep score to baldie. Then I had to get game pucks. My fellow referee, a kid who used to be on my team, mumbles this is only his second game reffing, so I have to be head ref. I make baldie keep time and proceed to center with a puck. I point to the goalie on the right side of the rink. It's standard to make sure they're ready. "GOALIE READY?" I yell. He raises his stick. I turn to my left. "GOALIE READY?" He is off looking at the soccer fields to his left. I repeat myself. He doesn't answer. I mumble, put my whistle in my mouth, and drop the puck. It got hit to the boards.
First Period- Two goals score, one by the green team, one by the blue team. I wasn't really looking when blue scored, so all I know is #79 scored. Assist? When in doubt, say there wasn't one.
First Intermission- I blow my whistle, and yell "PERIOD!". I start the clock for two minutes. Depending on the other ref, I might take my stick and shoot around. I start playing with the puck and shoot like Wayne Gretzky. Satisfied with looking like a total show-off, I skate back to the scorekeepers table to check time. With thirteen seconds to spare, I skate around and blow my whistle to indicate the intermission is up. Thirty (patient) seconds later, blue is still on the bench. I skate over, coach tells me to wait a second. Two minutes later, we're dropping the puck. That is after standing at center ice, waiting for blue and talking to a kid named Davey. Davey is my personal favorite. He doesn't stop talking so I make him put my mouth guard in.
Second Period- I played baseball for a lot of my childhood. Parents can be horrible at baseball. Not mine, but other parents and coaches. This doesn't happen at hockey, although sometimes this one coach chides me. I ignore it, because techniqually I am in charge. (NOTE: Ugly email about quality of reffing sent out a few days later. Love you too, Mr. Blue Coach)
Second period isn't too shabby, although I'm hungry. All I hear in my mind is J'ai hyper faim. J'ai hyper faim. Je voudrais un omlette. That's French for "I'm very hungry, I'm very hungry. I want an omlette."
Second Intermission- I blow the whistle and skate to get the puck. Davey decides to play around with it. He starts skating away from me and dumps it in a corner all the way at the other end. He laughs and his coach doesn't even notice. So not worth $10.
Third Period- We start a little more timely as I realize in fourteen minutes I'll be getting paid. It's more of the same; eight year olds skating and falling over and shoving each other. The green goalie starts crying because the other team scored four goals in about five minutes. I crouch down and talk to him. He wants me to send all the kids who scored on him to the sin bin. I can't help but smile.
The rest of the third goes rather smoothly and it's enlightened when I notice one of the green players pretending he's a dinosaur. Everytime he got near the puck, he made dino sounds. I have a new favorite.
It's almost the end of the game. I'm near the center line, closer to green bench. I notice Davey standing on the other side of the boards, banging on the door to the bench. "Knock, knock!" He taunts. I laugh.
1:03- I blow my whistle and yell, "GAME!" indicating the end of the game. I stand on the ice and make sure they shake hands. I skate over to green coach and awkwardly ask for my ten dollars. He asks me if Davey was being annoying. I tell him about the knock-knock thing and skate back to the equipment shed. I start changing back into basketball shorts, old baseball shirt, and hat because my hair is disgusting from skating and sweating under my helmet. Davey walks by. He sticks his tongue out. Eventually I find my mom's car, stick my hockey stuff in the back and take shotgun. I still hear J'ai hyper faim, j'ai hyper faim, j'ai hyper faim in my head. We stop at 7-11 and it's all good.....until I find out I have to be back at the rink for a 5:00 10U game, which sucks, because the kids all know I'm only two or three years older and they actually skate and shoot and trip.
MORE "A DAY IN THE LIFE" POSTS TO FOLLOW
Sunday, November 22, 2009
(Wrong) Way to Go, Nate!
New York area sports have triumphed in the past few years- the Giants and Eli Manning represent the city well in the NFL, and won a Super Bowl in 2007; the Yankees won the World Series this past season, and the Rangers and New Jersey Devils have boasted successful ice hockey teams.
The praise for NY sports stops when you talk about the NBA.
The Big Apple is represented by the Knicks and the (New Jersey) Nets. The Knicks are 3-18 with many woes and close games. The Nets have a zero in the win column and are still seeking their first win after 13 losses.
Going into Saturday's game, the Nets probably felt confident. They were playing a (then) 2-17 team and their most valuable player, Devin Harris, would be returning from a sidelining groin injury.
Despite playing a good game, Harris wasn't the star of the game.
No, that title belongs to Knicks guard Nate Robinson.
With his team up 98-91 and milliseconds remaining in the game, Robinson made a buzzer shot. In the oppo-Nets (haha, get it?) basket. Despite the fact it didn't count, Robinson's teammates seemed disgusted, and it was obvious Knicks' coach Mike D'Antoni was. D'Antoni chewed Robinson apart once he got to the bench, however, Robinson played in the Celtics/Knicks game.
Maybe this is why so many hoops fans favor NCAA basketball over the NBA? Superfluous attitude, arrogance and a whole lot of nerve were displayed with the shot. You don't see that kind of stuff in college hoops.
Perhaps the frat-boy is more mature than the professional basketball player.
The praise for NY sports stops when you talk about the NBA.
The Big Apple is represented by the Knicks and the (New Jersey) Nets. The Knicks are 3-18 with many woes and close games. The Nets have a zero in the win column and are still seeking their first win after 13 losses.
Going into Saturday's game, the Nets probably felt confident. They were playing a (then) 2-17 team and their most valuable player, Devin Harris, would be returning from a sidelining groin injury.
Despite playing a good game, Harris wasn't the star of the game.
No, that title belongs to Knicks guard Nate Robinson.
With his team up 98-91 and milliseconds remaining in the game, Robinson made a buzzer shot. In the oppo-Nets (haha, get it?) basket. Despite the fact it didn't count, Robinson's teammates seemed disgusted, and it was obvious Knicks' coach Mike D'Antoni was. D'Antoni chewed Robinson apart once he got to the bench, however, Robinson played in the Celtics/Knicks game.
Maybe this is why so many hoops fans favor NCAA basketball over the NBA? Superfluous attitude, arrogance and a whole lot of nerve were displayed with the shot. You don't see that kind of stuff in college hoops.
Perhaps the frat-boy is more mature than the professional basketball player.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
The NEW UPDATED Abby Road Sports
In order to connect with everybody, I now have an official:
- AIM/AOL
- Windows Live
- Yahoo
- Gmail
All of the accounts are "abbyroadsports". Feel free to follow us on Twitter, add us as friends on Facebook, send me an email on Yahoo, or hit me up on AIM.
On Twitter, I am going to update it whenever I have a new story, and post a link. It's hard to put my story up in 140 characters. I will do the same on the "status updates" through Facebook, Yahoo, AIM, and Windows.
On Facebook, I will post the stories in their entirety through notes.
I really think that in this digital age, social networking is nothing but good.
The blog will be updated several times a week. Posts regarding sports will start up again, but we're currently in the rebuilding process (much like the Pittsburgh Pirates). Bear with us; we'll be ready to blog about anything and everything soon enough.
Friday, November 6, 2009
The Best Is Yet To Come
I will be returning shortly with new content on this blog. I'm also thinking about starting a Wordpress version of the blog. Facebook and Twitter accounts are also possible.
Be back soon with even more sports information!
_
Abby Road Sports
Be back soon with even more sports information!
_
Abby Road Sports
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Michael Vick- should he be reinstated?
"EVERYBODY KNOWS I'VE GOT GREAT TALENTS AND GIFTS AND CAN DO THINGS 90 PERCENT OF THE GUYS IN THE LEAGUE CAN'T DO." Michael Vick
Michael Vick said the above, back when he was a standout NFL quarterback. Until 2007, he was one of the premier players and was respectable by fans, players, and coaches. He was the number one pick for the Atlanta Falcons in 2001, and played for the franchise until April 25th, 2007, when Vick's house was searched for narcotics in his Surry County, Virginia home. The 25 acre estate was in the same county as historical attractions Jamestown and Yorktown, but is also known as home to interstate dog fighting.
Vick was released two months ago from federal prison, and was on probation until Sunday.
Turn on Around the Horn, PTI, or Jim Rome is Burning, and the hot topic is all about whether or not Roger Goodel will reinstate the playmaker into the game.
NFL Analyst reactions are bittersweet; the Falcons PR is saying the team may not be interested in him.
Michael Vick should not be reinstated, under any circumstances.
Imagine if the "average Joe" had been sent to federal jail under a heinous, cruel crime. Would he get to keep a sinecure before jail? After two years?
Athletes are somehow above the rule of law. Vick can go back and resume his superstar life? Thank God his reputation was injured in the process.
That reputation in Band-Aids is also not going to help Vick get back into football at all. How many fans do you think will be buying Vick's jersey and memorbilia, except as a dog toy?
Professional football is a business. Professional football is an occupation. Professional football needs to start acting like it.
Michael Vick said the above, back when he was a standout NFL quarterback. Until 2007, he was one of the premier players and was respectable by fans, players, and coaches. He was the number one pick for the Atlanta Falcons in 2001, and played for the franchise until April 25th, 2007, when Vick's house was searched for narcotics in his Surry County, Virginia home. The 25 acre estate was in the same county as historical attractions Jamestown and Yorktown, but is also known as home to interstate dog fighting.
Vick was released two months ago from federal prison, and was on probation until Sunday.
Turn on Around the Horn, PTI, or Jim Rome is Burning, and the hot topic is all about whether or not Roger Goodel will reinstate the playmaker into the game.
NFL Analyst reactions are bittersweet; the Falcons PR is saying the team may not be interested in him.
Michael Vick should not be reinstated, under any circumstances.
Imagine if the "average Joe" had been sent to federal jail under a heinous, cruel crime. Would he get to keep a sinecure before jail? After two years?
Athletes are somehow above the rule of law. Vick can go back and resume his superstar life? Thank God his reputation was injured in the process.
That reputation in Band-Aids is also not going to help Vick get back into football at all. How many fans do you think will be buying Vick's jersey and memorbilia, except as a dog toy?
Professional football is a business. Professional football is an occupation. Professional football needs to start acting like it.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Failed Attempt at a Book Review: All Those Mornings...At The Post [I go rambling on...]
FEDORAS!!!This past April, I had the pleasure of meeting George Solomon, and the Povich brothers, Maury and David. After reading this collection of columns collected from the Washington Post, I feel as if I've met Shirley, too.
Who is the voice of Washington sports today? I'm thinking Dan Steinberg.
In the 20th Century, such is hogwash. Yes, hogwash.
Shirley Povich was the dominating sports writer in the Nation's Capital until his death on June 3rd, 1998. ALthough I had never read his columns in full context until this book, I've gotten to know Povich. It was almost like a novel; a fictional story of a sportswriter who went from small-town farm boy to the voice of sports.
Povich had seen it all from the Dempsey-Tunney fight in 1927 to his final column discussing Mark McGuire and Thomas Boswell (a fellow Post columnist).
In that final column, its quite obvious that this was pre-asteriks and injections.
"[McGuire is] bulked up by strength coaches and Nautilus weightlifters, plus the new diet of "nutrition shakes" popular in the clubhouses..." Povich writes.
In a modern day paper, "nutrition shakes" immediately registers alongside "juice". (I didn't add the quotations) That is, if Mark McGuire didn't.
Can you imagine what Shirley would have had to say in this era? He always had something to say. He wasn't afraid of the public's reaction to his writing. He wrote what he thought, not to impress. He earned respect through respect. He wasn't loud or annoying like so many sports writers (and broadcasters) today. He wrote about (sports related) social issues and "attacked Washington Redskins owner George Preston Marshall for having an all-white team [in the fifties]."
If it happened, Shirley wrote about it.
ALL THOSE MORNINGS...AT THE POST BY SHIRLEY POVICH. PUBLIC AFFAIRS IN PUBLISHING, 2005.
next post: what happened to the Yankees? Hockey? Why the NBA Finals champions are underrated?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
