The stripes

Gene Steinmeyer

Friday, the Maryville boys’ basketball team played their last home game. One of the officials in the three-man crew working the Maryville game was Virgil Freeman. Virgil won’t be doing any postseason games this year, so it was his last game of the season. It also was the last game of a 40-year career in working high school and college games.

I have no idea how many games Virgil put on the stripes, wrapped the whistle around his neck, and commanded order from the 10 participants on the court. I’m very sure it’s in the thousands.

Despite all the experiences that have come with those 40 years of officiating, there was a first for Virgil Friday night. During a fastbreak, Virgil was caught in no-man’s land as John Zimmerman, a Maryville sophomore guard, came barreling right at him. They got tangled up and both went down hard.

As you might suspect, Virgil is no spring chicken. Everyone was concerned about the retiring official’s well-being. In truth, Virgil had landed on John and the high school player got the worst end of the collision. John left the game holding his elbow and Virgil popped up and continued to officiate.

Later in the game, after a timeout, I saw Virgil talking to John who had come back in the game. know Virgil felt bad that John had to leave the game. Not too bad, though, to call a foul on John just moments later. There was a look on John’s face that probably said, “First you hurt me and now you call a foul on me.” Virgil was a professional until the end.

The only collision that I ever saw that had more contact was when Amy Bonner, now a big-time, NCAA I official, ran into one of my players at the score table at Northwest. The tape later showed Amy doing a cartwheel in front of the score table; one leg, then the other, and finally her ponytail. She jumped up, like Virgil.

I had a great relationship with most officials during my coaching career. Some people thought I was always on them, but in truth I was continually talking to them. We were both trying to do a job and no one was trying to screw it up.

The officials I appreciated the most were like Virgil. He is an official with whom you can communicate, even questioning a call now and then. If I thought Virgil had missed a call, I might say, “Virgil, I took a vote on that travel call and you lost 12-0.” No one ever changed a call for me with that line.

In 33 years of head coaching, I did get one call changed. It happened with my Doane College team during a trip to the Bahamas. The company setting up the tournament had hired a few retired Big 10 men’s officials. It was a nice vacation for them and I was thrilled to have all that experience on the court.

The retired officials hustled, but you could tell they were a little more relaxed than in a normal Big 10 game. We were playing Northern Montana, the No. 1 ranked team in the NAIA. Doane had a good team and we had taken the early lead. The Northern coach was constantly yelling at the officials, who were ignoring her.

A foul was called on my best player late in the first half. It was her third foul, a big blow for us. There was another one of our players in the group where the foul was called. I called over one of the Big 10 officials and politely told him he had the wrong kid.

He looked at me and said, “No kidding. Who was the foul on?” I gave him a number and he went to the score table and changed his call. I know it was a direct result of the other coach’s behavior. No technical foul, just a slight adjustment.

There are several types of officials. Every once in a while, you would get an official that you didn’t dare make angry. I would warn my players not to say a word no matter how much they disagreed with a call. I once had an official get mad at me early and called seven fouls on us in the first four minutes. All the foul calls were hers. I thought I was a nice guy.

Some officials like to show off. These were always my least favorite officials. They couldn’t wait for a charge call so they can throw out their fist, take two giant steps, put their hand behind their head to announce the foul. All the good officials will tell you they like to go unnoticed.

There was one unique official named Rhonda. She loved to talk. It didn’t matter what was going on, she’d have a comment. The way to get to her was to give her the silent treatment. Yelling at Rhonda is just exactly what she wanted. Once, at Missouri Western, I thought she had made a poor call and I just stared at her. She came over and acted hurt because I wouldn’t talk to her.

Sometimes, you have to know how far you can go with an official. Ironically, there was an official from southern Missouri by the name of Pitts than I almost always had for the Pittsburg State game. I could tell when I was close to getting a technical. At that moment I would turn my back and walk to the water cooler at the end of the bench.

As I was walking, I’d ask the players on the bench if she was following me. I wouldn’t turn around until she said something. By that time, she had cooled down enough not to issue a technical.

Congratulations to Virgil. Even with all those years of experience, he would officiate our team camps at Northwest. He worked very hard officiating those games, just as he did in the big games.

I have to give you one final story about Virgil. A few years ago, he was working a girls’ quarterfinal game at Bearcat Arena that pitted Jefferson against undefeated Mercer. Jefferson hit a shot with two seconds left, the clock ran out and the buzzer sounded. Virgil, who was closest to the exit, ran off the court like he had thousands of times.

The trouble was the Mercer coach had called a timeout and the official couldn’t get the attention of the timer in all the excitement. Two seconds were put back on the clock and someone was sent to find Virgil. He still had two seconds left to earn his paycheck.