Specifically, I have lasting admiration for the game officials, many of whom could have easily hung up their sneakers 15 or 20 squares back.
To know these men (and a few women) is to get a sense of how much they value the sport in which they are involved, and also how much they want to give of themselves.
As if they didn’t already have enough on their plates, people like Jeff Bell, Stu Finlayson and George Vadeboncoeur hit the courts after school and give of themselves in weekends at tournaments.
These are just a few names, and I’ll bet there are referees just like them in your community.
Both now officially retirees from the education field, Chester Graham and Mike McParland easily leave younger referees in their dust with their seemingly endless energy.
When I ran into Chester at the recent Georgian Bay Secondary School Association AA girls basketball championships in Orillia, he was anxiously waiting for another referee to get off the court.
“You must be thirsty and dying to go for a beer, Chester,” I said in jest.
“No, he is wearing my basketball shoes and I need to get going to work another game,” he replied.
That’s when I found out referees could be absent-minded, as well, sometimes forgetting to pack their court shoes for a game.
Brain cramps aside, I’ve always been awed by their level of concentration on the basketball court. They have the ability to pick out a flagrant call in a sea of rapidly moving arms and legs, with only milliseconds to spot the call and then blow the whistle.
At the same time, they have an incredible ability to maintain complete calm in a game where emotions can, and sometimes do, fly off the rails in the blink of an eye.
Recently, I asked Chester about a referee I had chatted with a few times during games in Orillia. Like so many of these meetings, the conversation was light and I only learned of his first name (Ray) once.
Ray knew me from my appearances at high school games as a sports reporter. About 18 months ago, he told me he had just recovered from cancer treatment and that the one thing that kept him going through the ordeal was the desire to get back out on the court.
He felt glad to be back and wanted to share his experience with my readers. And then, in the blink of an eye, we lost track of each other and never reconnected.
Chester told me recently his name was Ray Bryan, his cancer had returned and the prognosis was not good. My heart sank when I heard the news.
I am left wondering where Ray is and how he must be accepting the major detour his life has taken.
But, in the end, I was touched by his passion for basketball, as I am with Chester, Jeff, Mike, Stu, George and all the others who give of their time officiating.
With supportive thoughts and prayers for Ray added into the mix, gentlemen and ladies, I salute you all.
mdodd@simcoe.com
