It’s been a while since I last sat down to watch a volleyball match. Our daughter Erica was in middle school at the time and played. To put this into perspective, she graduated from community college as a paramedic just a few months ago, so I guess it would be accurate to say that I haven’t regularly attended any bump, set, spike action since George W. Bush was President.
That’s not to suggest that I haven’t been around the game much at all. Au contraire. While working at Michigan Tech as their video reporter, I shot ten years’ worth of home matches, edited the footage, and then posted the highlight clips online. I am also experienced as a line judge. Actually, I was volunteered for that role numerous times since no one else ever wanted to do it and also because “you’re a basketball coach, so you’ll know the rules better than I.” The last comment came from my wife and had more to do with the fact she didn’t want to go out on the court, even though she had played the sport in high school.
So why all the volleyball chatter? The short answer is that I’m considering becoming a volleyball official. The long answer is that after years of wear and tear on my knees, joints, and arches as a basketball ref, I decided it might be a good time to slow down on the court and find a sport that doesn’t require running, jogging, wheezing, huffing, puffing, or sounding like a striped, obscene phone caller.
“She sounds hideous.”
“Well, he’s a basketball ref.”
I grabbed a sports Rolodex and flipped through the cards. Soccer—nope, huge field with too much running and not enough air conditioning. Football—nope, another large field, especially in Canada, and extremely high probability of being blindsided by a behemoth in pads. Baseball—maybe, but then again, I don’t care for the heat, and squatting behind home plate would be disastrous. Water Polo—nope, because I’m not good at riding a horse. Hockey—nope, because I can skate, but I can’t stop. Volleyball—ding, ding, ding, we have a winner. I only need to walk up a two-foot ladder, and there is absolutely no running involved.
Jim signals the server
Who could I call to find out how to get started in volleyball? How about Jim? The same Jim who was my trainer in basketball. (Link to “Doing Time In The Trainer Gym.”)
Upon arriving at the high school on a beautiful Saturday morning for a jv volleyball tournament, I found Jim sitting in the official’s room with other stair-climbing referees.
“Hi, Jim,” I said as I poked my head in the doorway.
“Kraig, you made it,” replied the one official in Michigan who has worked with me for years, thus displaying the patience of Job.
I was introduced to the other officials, and then we headed to a meeting with the coaches. Once that meeting was over, my volleyball training began.
Jim held a meeting with the line judges and me. He discussed responsibilities and flag waving. After the meeting adjourned, I sat at the end of the court beside a scoring table and directly next to the supervisor of officials, Lori.
“Ask me any questions you want, Kraig,” said Lori. “And I’ll do my best to answer them.”
I asked about numbering positions, job responsibilities between referee one, who was up on the stairs, and referee two, who was standing next to the net. I also plied Lori for information regarding rotation patterns, timeouts, substitutions, and game management.
So far so good. In all of the conversation, the word “running” never came up. Neither did “pulled hamstring,” “arch difficulty,” “strained gluteus,” or “Ben Gay.” To say I was encouraged was a supreme understatement.
The one thing that I noticed was the actual pace of play. Way back in the day, the game was s-l-o-w. If the serve didn’t clear the net, it was declared side out and became the other team’s ball to serve. There was no point scored, just another couple minutes of our lives we would never get back. In today’s volleyball, a point is scored on every single serve.
At this tourney, the game was movingfasterthanaspeedingbullet. During the second match, I was situated at the scorer’s table located near the net. I was watching Jim, who was referee number two, and trying to remember his responsibilities. There were so many substitutes swapped in and out by both coaches, Jim wore his pencil down to a nub.
Jim works as ref #2
“12 in for 3. 7 in for 1,” Jim hollered. The official scorekeeper furiously wrote down the numbers.
Jim’s arms spun like a rotisserie.
I looked at referee number one on the ladder, over at the official score, and then to my left to Jim. This game is different than basketball and there is so much to learn.
Just when I thought I was getting the hang of referees’ responsibilities, there was a break in the action; game one of the two game-round robin event was over.
“Well, Kraig,” asked Jim. “Do you think you’re getting a good grasp of the rules, responsibilities, and pace of play?”
I answered confidently, “Jim, I think I do.”
“Well,” continued Jim. “I’m glad to hear that because we normally throw new volleyball officials into middle school games. The good news is that the speed of the games is much, much slower.”
“Cool”, replied a smiling wannabe-volleyball official. “Slower is always good,” I responded. If I had to choose between being referee number one or two, I would definitely go with ref number one. I’m not a fan of heights, but I figure I could get used to hauling it up the three steps. Having to keep track of the dizzying pace of subs while being ref two would literally make my head swim.
“The bad news,” said Jim, “is that you’ll have to do everything yourself at the middle school games. You’ll be ref one and ref two, all rolled into one.”
Oh, no.
