Before I say anything else, let me make one thing perfectly clear: as an avid sports fan, I love Chelsea football. I spend my Thursday and Friday evenings each fall following the high school teams. That investment of time should be proof that I write this as a Chelsea partisan. I hope that lends the proper tone to these comments.
As this football season has progressed, on more than one occasion I have found myself deeply frustrated. Not at the coaches, the players, or even the referees, but at what I hope is a vocal minority within our fans: complainers. Game after game, I have found myself gritting my teeth as I have listened to a few fans shout at the referees after nearly every potentially questionable call. My message is simple: this attitude has no place in high school athletics, and it needs to stop.
First, one major point: it is the job of the coaches to communicate with the referees. This is not up for debate. If there is a bad or questionable call, a coach will discuss it with the referee; if the officiating warrants further complaint, the proper parties — not fans — will make the proper complaints — not sarcastic insults — through the proper channels. It is not our place as fans to tell the officials what we thought of their calls. There is plenty of room to discuss the calls with the people around us; there are numerous sympathetic ears at every game. But when it comes to questionable calls, we should keep our voices off the field.
Next, consider the example we are setting for the athletes. They are supposed to play their best regardless of the calls they get — or don’t get — and they are supposed to respect the referees as the on-field authority, again, regardless of the calls. Just as vocal criticism of a coach during a game undermines the authority he must have to function as a coach, so does vocal criticsm of the referees undermine the authority they must have to function as game officials; when either authority suffers, the game suffers.
Also, consider the school and the community we represent. In sports, players and coaches are commonly considered the representatives of Chelsea, but it is negligent not to consider the fans as representatives of the community; in fact, as representatives, sometimes the fans are more influential than the players and coaches. As such, we are compelled to regulate our speech and behavior so as to avoid sullying the name and reputation of our community.
Finally, consider our purpose in attending the games. We are not there to be the show, nor are we there to denigrate anyone or anything; we are there to exhort our athletes. We are there to support our team. Period. And, contrary to the lessons political campaigns teach us, supporting our team does not include denigrating the other team. Sarcasm and taunts have no place in the role of fans at high school events.
In that light, we would be wise to remember this is high school athletics. This is not a major college or professional game, where one voice blends into the crowd. A crowd of five thousand is a big turnout for a varsity football game, and the lower-level teams draw even smaller crowds; a single voice can travel at many such events. The words we speak and the attitudes we project are significant.
A notable example of the danger of fan complaints occurred during the JV football game against Dexter. Later in the game, when Chelsea effectively had the win in hand, the officials made a questionable call, prompting an outcry from the Chelsea stands. On the tail end of that protest, one fan shouted, “Go back to Dexter!”
There are two problems with that incident. First, it is ridiculous to complain about questionable calls when the win is all but assured. When the game is in hand, the issue of whether or not somebody held or interfered or crossed the goal line is remarkably insignificant even in the small picture of that football game. Such words and attitudes project a cutthroat competitiveness that is out of place at the high school level.
Second, and quite simply, that sort of statement is insulting. It is insulting to the referee, particularly when there is no proof of his intentional bias, and it is insulting to the entire Dexter contingent. Think of the damage done if the Dexter fans leave with “Go back to Dexter!” ringing in their ears. Combined with the complaints of the winning fans, that insult projects an image that most Chelsea fans and residents likely would rather avoid.
One incident from last year’s baseball season provides a fitting conclusion. In the middle of the season, the varsity was playing at Ann Arbor Huron, and both the crowd and the coaching staff were becoming increasingly unsatisfied with the umpires; one mystifying sequence prompted coach Wayne Welton to speak to the umpire. Shortly after that conference, another call evoked another outcry from the fans. As the vocal fans expressed their displeasure directly to the umpire, Welton turned around, held up his hands and delivered a succinct message: “Hey, just let us play, okay?”
An excited crowd is a wonderful part of the high school athletic experience; the atmosphere of a full high school venue, as we had for the football game against Adrian, is among the best in sports. I love the passion we as a community can display on Friday nights, and I hope that passion is never diminished. But for the good of our athletes, coaches and community, we need to think before we speak. We need to be the fans; we need to let them play.
I ref’ed young kiddies soccer when I was in middle school. These were beginners playing “swarm ball.” A broad mix of athletes, children who had trouble merely changing direction, and everything in-between (even one or two who were more interested in the dandelions growing on the field than in the ball). It was almost just organized pre-school recess, more than soccer. In any case, my coach at the time was in charge of the league, so he asked me to ref for $5 a game (an hour). I did it because I enjoy sports, and I played at those same fields when I was that age.
In any case, the kids were great, the coaches great, and most parents fine. But there were a few parents who felt the need to complain about the officiating, during the game, very loudly, with a very conservative use of tact. I was the only ref, and I had no formal “ref” training (just whatever informal training one gets from playing soccer himself), so I know I missed lots of calls, both from inability to be all over the field at once and from ignorance. But getting personally assaulted from parents during a game in which, for all I know, some of the players are in diapers, is a bad sign. Setting a bad example for some high school kids who are strangers is one thing; yelling at some pre-teen ref in front of your pre-school kid is a whole different ballgame, to use an appropriate metaphor. So I hope your letter in the Standard changes the tone a little at CHS games, but after that season, I have little hope for a society of sports fans changing from within. I dealt with the criticism then by ignoring it. If that happened to me now, I would call the game. If the parents want to complain to the league that I called the game, fine. But I’m not subjecting children to that, and I’m not putting up with that for $5 an hour. That’s probably not as viable an option with high school football, but I think it will probably take something as drastic as that to really make any significant change.
Trash-talking is a similar subject which should get its own essay, but I will keep it to a paragraph for now: I don’t know when trash-talking became an essential part of sports, but it detracts from the fulfilment of sports more than any other single factor. To throw a little race in the mix: I can understand its origins. Tough inner-city, you can’t appear weak, use everything you can to survive, including psychological intimidation. But going from that, where “no blood, no foul” is literal, to white-boy high, where our moms pick us up in minivans after the game, is a non sequitur, or at least inapposite. If you need to trash-talk to make things interesting, as Gouda said, go into politics. Bluntly, shut up and play.