I Knew Better Until I Needed to Know Better
By: Christian Dejeu,
Staff Writer
Off and running, my nerves were revving, thrilled to be refereeing at my first game and most importantly, earning my first paycheck. I was officially working. Little did I know as I confidently walked to my first game, relishing that the day was destined to demonstrate my established mastery of my favorite sport, that in actuality, my outlook was about to be forever transformed. The voice of my mind faintly whispering, “I always know better until I need to know better.” My beloved game was going to mess with me; the game and I were having a throw-down, and I was unaware.
“Hey, are you Catherine?” I piped out, checking the nets as my partner walked up to me. The cool breeze of the bright picture perfect New England day was much appreciated, cooling my excited nerves. Cool, calm, and collected– that is the referee I am.
“I am, and you must be Christian. I am taking the bottom half of the field; you can take the top half when you finish checking the nets,” Catherine specified above the buzzing from around and about the field.
“Yeah, okay.” The top half meant standing in and looking into that beautiful warm embracing sun; not having sunglasses would not interfere with my ability to see this game.
The large open setting of Foundation Soccer fields is surrounded by wise old oak and maple trees standing with newfound attention to the amusement about to commence on the fields. They are finally showing off their spring fashion of leaves and adding color to our town after the greyness of the long winter. After a long winter, they, as much as the families assembling, welcome the day’s energy, color, and life. The grass is not just green, it is fresh, new, and smells of the best of morning. The sun’s warmth embraces to lift the mood and energy even higher. The conversations are many and lively as people share their appreciation to get together again and watch their “superstars” play the game. The fields look professionally set for a perfect soccer season.
Cheering, coaching, and whistles guiding—play and action, begin to fill the air; it is time to get my assigned game going. No one, especially my commanding partner, who despite her referee position is the height of the six and seven year old players we are presiding over, is going to find out this is my first time refereeing. However, my mind is disrupting and betraying my mission to referee; rather, it is solely focusing on reminding me not to embarrass myself, particularly in front of seasoned and experienced Catherine. The game is not to end with her proclaiming that she would not referee with me again. Instead, I am set to impress her with my many years of soccer experience; after all, I am a starter, and further, I have my recently earned grade nine referee certification badge marking my jersey. I don’t think she knows it is my first time refereeing, and there is no need to tell her or ask any questions that might tip her off.
Approaching the team coaches, with a firm handshake and eye contact, they declare, “Most of our players are not here yet, but we could still play.”
“Okay, we can start the game as long as we have 6-on-6 on the field, and sub in as you are able,” Catherine chimed in with bright eyes and a smile.
Not allowing time for my reply or, more importantly, any planning for checking in the latecomers creates troubles. I know that it is these young latecomers who are often not in proper soccer cleats. Yet, I do not say or do anything to prevent it. I am allowing unchecked players to sporadically enter during in my first refereeing game.
By definition, the U8 teams are under eight years old. These six and seven year olds are unofficially referred to as “shorties” by some due to their size. It occurs to me that they resemble puppies more than kids; yapping, laughing, joking and boasting, it takes notable effort to line them up and check them in. It is obvious they are a mixture of different soccer abilities and understanding of the game rules and procedures just by how their shoes are and aren’t tied and the placement of their shin guards. I go about tying that which needs to be tied and sliding shin guards away from preventing knee movement.
Silence and the sudden awareness, parents, coaches, and players are staring at me, apparently ready to start the game—the kick off; they are all wondering when I will make that happen. My whistle blows, and my hand swiftly starts the stopwatch. I witness the blue team player kick the ball to his teammates as both teams collide with the ball. No one is playing positions; a glob of blue and red team players exchanges the ball in a frenzy of chase more times than I could possibly keep track of. Then a red team member breaks away running to the other end of the field and took the shot at the goal, missing.
“It’s a goal kick. Goalie kicks the ball.” I am speaking while the players provide me with little evidence they understand what and why I am saying anything.
Amazingly the goalie kicks the ball clear across the field with the chaotic players quickly pursuing, moving the whole lot of them to the other side. My thinking simply could not compute how any of this is soccer. Clearly the teams are more “puppies” than soccer players, chasing the ball with no position or use of specific soccer skills. My mind could not compute what to do. Offside, not offside, hand ball, sliding—I could not think or figure how to regulate the game of soccer. They must play soccer, for that is why I am here. Everything is happening at warp speed and not resembling soccer.
Witnessing the atomically active players to those passive dandelion pickers out in the game presumably to play soccer, I am in both distress and disbelief. Meanwhile, the team coaches are approaching the game as a reflection of their personal success, working to make each of their players a champion. The question is: a champion of what? With smiles, both Catherine and the coaches are succeeding at keeping things positive and setting framework/boundaries on the field chaos. I am panicking and hoping I do not have a face to match what I feel. While parents are demonstrating their misguided understanding of their “superstars’” abilities and capabilities to focus with their passionately shared support of their child’s efforts, no matter what it was. Loud support of their child’s team, with no support of the referee’s less than perfected refereeing, is encircling the field.
“Beep, Beep, Beep” my watch cues my whistle; it is half time. The whole lot runs off field to the bowls of sticky orange wedges to refuel. The taste of figuratively young competition and literally sport aide beverages fills the air. Sport aide is needed but not the kind one finds in a bottle.
Once again, feeling the glare of the crowd on my ability to referee, judging my every action, I start the second half of the game. Player drama is overriding this half of the game with flamboyant falling, colliding, and sliding about, over and through each other. No injuries, and all are well. The game time ends with the officiating of the final score card, which due to a faulty pencil, barely is legible and not something I want to sign my name to.
Much was learned from this game, particularly for all that I had studied earning my referee credential and experienced playing soccer for years, I was still unaware of how much I really did not know or appreciate before being in the shoes of a referee. The speed of the game requires quick and confident thinking. Although I felt accomplished earning my referee certification and having the job to referee; I never considered how nervous I might feel or how important experience is in teaching me what I really need to know in order to succeed as a referee. There was so much newness in something I had done since as early as I could remember, and just when I thought I knew all that I needed to know about soccer; soccer taught me something new.
Reflecting on becoming better under the fire and on the “battlefield” of the “soccer field” had become more than just my competing while playing a soccer game. Being a referee is complicated and hard, especially with little kids that are just learning the game along with their parents on the sidelines. There is an appreciation that I gained for the referee, or anyone in that type of position, of what it is like to be responsible for the actions and rules. I changed the way I feel after living the experience that showed me the difference between what I thought I knew verses what I actually knew or could show I know. Probably I will never forget this day, and looking back, it was not only significant and important to me, but funny too. I hope others might learn that they might think they know better than the referee, or maybe even a teacher, until they need to be in their shoes and the one that needs to know. My secondary take away was that learning often needs the practice of experience because being certified did not result in making me as successful of a referee as I thought I was before doing the job. I survived, yet I put too much pressure on being perfect once realizing I could not think as fast as I would like to, and that created unnecessary pain. Interestingly, once again in my life, I note that whether I ask for it or not, the people around me play parts in preparing me to handle life like a champ: including the good, the bad, and the ugly parts. Overall, I felt anticipation, accomplishment, nervousness, clueless, humor, humbled, appreciative, and proud in some form through this event that made it the memory it is. I know I know better now coming full circle with a smile until I need to know better.