Any fencer who has ever had a referee will have had at least a few
(sometimes quite a few) instances where they've been left in shock
at the referees decision and asked themselves if s/he was blind,
biased, or just plain stupid. So in an effort to better understand
the strange species that watches over our bouts, I signed up for a
referees course.
On a saturday afternoon we gathered in the freezing confines of the competition
venue, huddled around the instructer and clutching our copies of the FIE rules
(USFA translation, partially converted to AFF version) for warmth. It was a
casual affair, the instructor skipping around the book, telling us what was
important to us and what could be ignored, the rules common to all weapons, and
our responsibilities over the course of a bout. It was interesting,
particularly the horror stories of the experiences of other referees on the
strip.
Over the course of 3 hours, something very peculiar happened. I'm not sure how,
maybe they were aiming some sort microwave at our heads, but we turned into
referees. Here are some warning signs for you to look out for:
1. The referee is always right. If someone tells you that you are wrong, ask
what their relationship to the fencers is. Chances are they're at least half
blind.
2. If you can't follow the action, it's the fault of the fencers for not making
it clear. Don't apologise or agonize over it, just don't award a hit.
3. Impose the rules mindlessly and constantly. Don't use your judgement,
issuing cards for the slightest infringement ensures fairness and makes them
less likely to cause any more trouble.
Here I find myself suffering a split personality. The sabreur rages at the
unfairness of expecting me to fence for the referee. The referee in me says
it's only reasonable, I'm doing a nasty job and I shouldn't have to put up with
crap from anyone - you're the one who wants your bout judged after all.
The sabreur is quite convinced she's been ripped off in the past, the referee
cringes with guilt at the memory of the nasty looks I gave the referees.
Perhaps signing up for the coaching course isn't such a good idea - a
third point of view might drive me completely insane. (Hmmm... that might
explain a few things...)
Anyway, the following day was our first practical. We were the free labour
refereeing the under 20's. Refereeing juniors is in some ways a terrible way to
start your refereeing career, in other ways it's good. I had a lot of practice
handing out cards for corp-a-corp and learning to ignore the coaches glaring
from the sidelines. On the down side these youngsters were clearly struggling
for self control. Fortunately they more or less behaved themselves on my
strips and didn't argue or throw tantrums, some of my fellow trainees weren't so
lucky. I'd like to think it was the heavy black overcoat and boots, but I
suspect it was just being female that did it. The girls gave me more trouble
than the guys.
I went through the day as a refereeing automaton as per instructions, although
unfortunately I seem to have a few bugs. In one bout I kept getting the lights
the wrong way around (how embarrassing!), in another it was left and right, but
the phrasing was correct so I managed to stumble my way through without robbing
anyone of victory or upseting them too much. As my voice began to fail I joined
the others huddled
in a corner to exchange tales in a group therapy session. The instructor came
around to reassure us all that we did okay and to remember that we were right so
just ignore everyone else and we'll get better with experience.
Two weeks to practice and read up on the rules (or in my case, competing in a
national event and taking the rest of the week off), then we were back for more.
Another saturday, same freezing venue, same huddle of fencer-referees struggling
to come to terms with a bifocal vision of the world. This time it was weapon
specifics and more horror tales. The over-riding message was the same
as the first session however: Believe in yourself, be decisive, then forget
the last point and focus on the next. People may behave badly, but don't
let them force you to flee the sport because of one bad bout.
The next practical was easier than the first (although still juniors). I felt
a lot more confident in my role as Authority Figure and didn't make so
many stress-related mistakes. Afterwards we were handed the exam to do
at home which was rather ... large. And this was after our instructor had
cut a whole lot of them out. He gave it as an open book exam, requiring
us to find the relevant passage in the rule book and quote the number. This
proved to be the hard part.
So what have I learned about referees?
From the Referee:
Well, we're mostly human. We do make mistakes of course, sometimes we
don't notice infractions, sometimes we blink at the wrong moment. But we're
not necessarily out to get you, so if your fencing is clear and clean you'll get
your points. Referees are expected to make decisions, it's an unpleasant job
but someone has to do it so unless you want to take over be nice to us.
It's also worth noting that they do have a better view than the fencers themselves,
who generally think faster than they act, and from the right viewpoint they
can (if paying attention) pick out quite small moves in the phrase.
From the Fencer:
Referees sometimes get it wrong, and it's disturbing that there's no good way to
tell them so even if your only aim is to help them improve. You can't argue
with what they saw, that's in the rules. You also can't argue with what they
didn't see since they didn't see it. Even as a referee I didn't feel I could
correct others making mistakes, to do so during the bout would undermine
their authority and afterwards they're unlikely to remember the incident even
if they accept that you're only trying to help. A good referee seems to be
determined by personality more than anything, I don't like it but I can't
think of anyway around it. For the sake of our sanity we're told to ignore
the glares and cries of anger, so how do you know if you need to improve?
As a side note, I'm pleased to say that a few people have come and
complimented me on my refereeing. Not only is this a huge ego boost but
it encourages me to keep working at it, if only to make life easier for the
fencers and set a good example for others.
So if you ever think a ref has done well, or at least coped well
under difficult circumstances, tell them so. We may have to ignore negative
feedback, but most referees want to be good at what they do and it's helpful
to know for sure when you've got it right.