IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER ... We can set our watches by it. Every time there is a real or perceived officiating error, the stands won’t even be empty before the cable sports networks dust off the same old footage of the same old calls, doing a piece titled “The Worst Calls Ever.” All an official on the recliner can do is sit back and take it, lip-synching along with the same tired phrases repeated over decades-old video: Fifth down, Jeffrey Maier, etc, etc. It would be nice if that didn’t happen. However, given our culture’s obsession with sound bites, simple explanations and Top 10 lists, we’re stuck with it. The “Worst Calls” piece is powerful anti-referee propaganda: simple and quick, with slick, diverse, mesmerizing images. Well, if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em. Two can play that game. If satellite TV expands to include The Referee Network, how would we counter those “Worst Calls”? What are the best calls of all time? For this list to effectively counteract the sports networks’ Worst Calls lists, it will have to follow certain guidelines. First, the calls need to be relatively well-known. Although we’ve all made some excellent calls in front of players’ friends and families on Friday nights and
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Saturday mornings, they don’t belong on this list. Second, and perhaps unfortunately, certain kinds of judgment calls are out. On an especially tight play, what one good official thinks is a block, another good official might think is a charge. Those calls are important and gutsy, but they won’t work here. To put it another way, the only list we all can agree on must include calls that are very close, but verifiably proven correct, ideally on replay. Finally, extra points are given for calls made in big games, particularly on a big play. Since officials feel pressure in big games just like players, their great performances in the clutch merit just as much recognition. Guts count, courage counts, and the more boos, the better. We hashed out an initial list in our offices, arguing over which should be included and which were merely “great, but not best.” We sent out a survey to NASO members asking for input. We phoned and e-mailed dozens of the greatest officials of all time, asking for their opinions. After months of discussion, we finally whittled it down. Just as we rarely agree with those other media outlets’ “Worst Calls” lists, we’re sure there will be disagreement with our list. That’s great! We’d love to hear from our readers if we’ve missed an obvious one. E-mail us at editor@referee.com and tell us what we’re missing. So, with those guidelines set, it’s time to join the fray. For your consideration: a list of the best calls of all time.
OCTOBER 19, 2004
UMPIRE CONFERENCE IN 2004 ALCS RANDY MARSH, JOE WEST AND JEFF KELLOGG, CALLING UMPIRES
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andy Marsh couldn’t see the play. “Ninety-nine percent of the time, umpires are going to be in the correct position,” he says. “But sometimes things happen so fast that you are physically unable to adjust your position so you can see the play.” With one out in the bottom of the eighth inning of game six of the AL Championship Series, the Yankees had cut the Red Sox lead to 4-2 with Alex Rodriguez at bat. When Rodriguez hit a slow roller to pitcher Bronson Arroyo up the first-base line, Marsh, the first-base umpire, was screened from the play by both first baseman Doug Mientkiewicz and second baseman Mark Bellhorn. He missed an egregious act by Rodriguez.
As Arroyo reached to tag Rodriguez, Rodriguez gave Arroyo’s glove a forearm chop. All Marsh saw was the ball go flying past him and into the outfield. He signaled safe. Rodriguez scampered to second and Derek Jeter, who had been on first, scored. After Red Sox Manager Terry Francona complained, Marsh and his crew got together. Once there, the crew’s teamwork enabled them to get the call right. Two of Marsh’s crewmates saw the play clearly. Joe West, the home plate umpire, had the best look at the play and clearly saw Rodriguez interfere. Additionally, Jeff Kellogg, the right-field umpire, had the same information. Kellogg had run into foul territory anticipating a possible overthrow. Consequently, he was able to see past Marsh, Bellhorn and Mientkiewicz and confirm West’s version of the call. “So I said, ‘Well, we’re going to have to change it,’” West recalls. “So, basically, we looked at each other and said, ‘Get ready, boys, because this place is gonna go nuts.’” West’s premonition was on the money. Irate Yankee fans, already upset over an earlier overturned call that gave Bellhorn a merited home run, lost their cool. They littered the field with debris. The shower didn’t stop until police were stationed around the field, a position they held for the next inning of play. The anger lasted only until the fans got home and saw the call on TV. Marsh was expecting boos — or perhaps worse — when he stepped behind the plate to call balls and strikes for game seven at Yankee Stadium the next night. “But as it turned out, that was not the case whatsoever,” he says. In part because reporters had copies of the relevant rule in their hands before Marsh’s postgame interview, “The media backed us a thousand percent,” says Marsh. The call not only stands as a courageous, correct ruling, it also represents a change in MLB umpiring philosophy. In an earlier era, Marsh likely would have been left to stand by his incorrect call, in spite of the fact he was screened out. The net result is an excellent exhibit of a crew providing information, and of Marsh putting a correct call as his number–one priority. “I was proud of our whole group,” he said. “I was glad we handled it the way we did.” ■
JANUARY 14, 1996
MILLIS CALLS ‘NO CATCH!’ TIM MILLIS, CALLING OFFICIAL
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n the midst of all of those limbs, a trip to the Super Bowl would either land in Aaron Bailey’s arms or fall to the ground. Just outside the crowd stood back judge Tim Millis. The 1995 season AFC Championship game was coming down to its final play. Indianapolis trailed Pittsburgh, 20-16, at Three Rivers Stadium, and quarterback Jim Harbaugh threw a Hail Mary pass into the end zone. In the middle of five Steeler defenders, Bailey, a Colts receiver, wound up with the ball on his stomach as he fell onto his rear end. He was unable to corral it, and it landed on the turf between his torso and his arm. With so much at stake, Bailey pulled out all the stops. He scooped up the ball and sprang to his feet, holding it over his head to signify he just scored the winning touchdown. Millis was unmoved. As Harbaugh ran up the field, repeating, “I think he caught it,” and as the state of Indiana clenched its fists for an imminent celebration, Millis ran onto the scene, signaled incomplete and pounded the ground. The call was both difficult and immensely important. The ball barely hit the ground in the middle of a lot of traffic. Bailey’s reaction seemed intended to dupe an official. Bailey told the
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Indianapolis Star years later: “I’d love to ask the ref, ‘How did you see that?’ I almost fooled myself.” But Millis was not fooled, and his crewmates backed him up. Also, in 1995, there was no instant replay. If Millis and his crew had missed the call, a different team would have gone to the Super Bowl. For all of those reasons, Millis’ call belongs on any list of the all-time best. ■
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SEPTEMBER 23, 1908
“MERKLE’S BONER” HANK O’DAY, CALLING UMPIRE
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n September 1908, the Chicago Cubs, New York Giants and Pittsburgh Pirates engaged in one of the closest and most dramatic pennant races of all time. On Sept. 23, as the Cubs and Giants played the third game of a four-game series at New York’s Polo Grounds, they were tied for the NL lead, with Pittsburgh only a game back. The teams fought a 1-1 pitchers’ duel until the bottom of the ninth when umpire Hank O’Day made a courageous, unprecedented call. With two outs, the Giants’ Fred Merkle singled, advancing Moose McCormick, the potential winning run, to third base. Al Bridwell then singled to right field and McCormick crossed the plate, giving the Giants an apparent 2-1 victory. As was the custom of the day when the game-winning run scored, Merkle didn’t bother to run to second. Instead, he ran to the dugout as Giants fans streamed onto the field to celebrate. But Johnny Evers, the Cubs’ second baseman, knew his rulebook. He knew that the force was still on at second base and that he could step on second, retire Merkle and negate the run. In fact, in an earlier Cubs game against Pittsburgh, he had appealed for a similar force play to disallow a winning Pirate run in the bottom of the ninth. The umpire said that he didn’t see the player stop short of second, but that he’d keep an eye out for it in future games. That umpire: Hank O’Day. Perhaps remembering that conversation, Evers tracked down a ball (controversy remains as to whether it was the ball Bridwell hit) and stepped on second. In the middle of the spectators, O’Day called Merkle out, disallowed McCormick’s run, and, because of the crowd on the field and impending darkness, declared the game a 1-1 tie. Bridwell’s game-winning single became a game-ending fielder’s choice. The game was made up after the season and the Cubs won, thereby taking the pennant by a game over the Giants. O’Day’s call is a controversial pick for this list. Some argue that calling something that had been routinely ignored is problematic. In his book on the 1908 baseball season, More than Merkle, author (and high school umpire) David W. Anderson sums up the arguments against O’Day’s call by stating that “a rule not enforced is unenforceable.” Nevertheless, this call belongs. It was a huge call in a huge game, requiring both knowledge and courage. We should not blame O’Day for enforcing an important rule that hadn’t yet been enforced. Instead, we should celebrate him. He followed the rulebook, which is tangible and enforceable rather than following tradition, which is neither. O’Day even valued the correct call over his own safety, making the controversial (but correct) call in the midst of thousands of Giants fans. He more than earns his spot on this list. ■
JUNE 23, 1998
BAHARMAST SEES WHAT MILLIONS MISSED ESSE BAHARMAST, CALLING OFFICIAL
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hen Brazil met Norway in the last match of Pool A play in Marseille, France, in the 1998 World Cup, there was plenty at stake. Prohibitive underdogs, Norway needed to defeat the defending champions to advance to the second round. Norway had equalized the game, 1-1, on an 83rd-minute goal by Tore Andre Flo and was pushing for the winning goal to keep its World Cup hopes alive. The Norwegians got their wish when Flo, battling with Junior Baiano, went down in the box. American referee Esse Baharmast pointed to the spot, awarding Norway a penalty in the 87th minute. According to Baharmast, Junior Baiano didn’t seem surprised. “Zero lip. Zero dissent,” Baharmast said. “As a matter of fact, he’s the first one leaving the area to not be caught there.” Kjetil Rekdal converted the penalty, and Norway had a stunning, 2-1, upset victory. As the Norwegians celebrated, an uncomfortable adventure began for Baharmast. The hundreds of millions of soccer fans watching the game on television saw replay after replay showing no contact worthy of a penalty. It didn’t take long for the worldwide press to turn on Baharmast, calling him incompetent and even a member of an anti-African conspiracy (Norway’s victory kept Morocco out of the second round). But Bahamarst had friends and family looking out for him. Back in the States, an officiating colleague of Baharmast’s, Mark Carpenter, was watching the game and its fallout. He knew Baharmast wouldn’t hallucinate a penalty with the game on the line. He searched the
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Internet and found a video showing irrefutable evidence of Junior Baiano pulling Flo’s shirt. He immediately called Baharmast’s wife, Afshan. She contacted Baharmast in France, who contacted the referee chief. The pictures were out within hours, and the press that had pilloried Baharmast executed an immediate turnaround, apologizing and praising his correct call. While such an obvious jersey tug may not seem to belong on this list, Baharmast earns his way here because, quite simply, he saw something that the rest of the world didn’t see. There’s a reason that game officials aren’t positioned in the stands or in their living rooms, but instead on the field, where they can maneuver their way into the best possible position to make calls. Baharmast did just that. Junior Baiano’s foul was crafty enough that it was invisible from almost every angle except Baharmast’s. Norway’s justified penalty — and equally justified victory — was missed by every critic. ■
DECEMBER 23, 1972
“THE IMMACULATE RECEPTION” ADRIAN BURK AND PAT HARDER, CALLING OFFICIALS
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magine a replay review that lasts 30 years … and is conducted with the aid of physics professors. That’s what the crew of the AFC Divisional playoff game between the Pittsburgh Steelers and the Oakland Raiders at Three Rivers Stadium wound up dealing with. With less than 30 seconds remaining, the Steelers, trailing by one point, faced a fourth down from their 40 yardline. Pittsburgh’s Terry Bradshaw, forced from the pocket, threw a pass intended for Frenchy Fuqua. Fuqua, Oakland’s Jack Tatum and the ball arrived at very nearly the same time. The ball caromed 10 yards upfield, where the Steelers’ Franco Harris grabbed it at shoestring level and ran into the end zone. Two officials, back judge Adrian Burk and umpire Pat Harder, each believed they saw the ball hit Tatum. On the basis of that, after a controversial delay, referee Fred Swearingen signaled touchdown. The question: Did the ball hit Fuqua or Tatum? If the ball touched Fuqua, Harris’s reception would have been illegal by the rules of the time. For years, the mystery was unsolved. Then, nearly 30 years later, a newspaper reporter sent Carnegie Mellon physics professor emeritus John Fetkovich the video of the game and asked him to determine who touched the ball. He got to work immediately. First, Fetkovich tested the “coefficient of restitution” (or, to oversimplify it, the “bounciness”) of a football by throwing it repeatedly against a brick wall and measuring how far it rebounded. Then he determined how fast the ball was traveling both before and after it hit the player. Since the video shows the ball rebounding away from the players just before their collision, he could phrase the question this way: Did the ball hit Tatum, who was running toward the ball, or Fuqua, who was running obliquely away from it? Fetkovich determined the ball hit Tatum. “It would be clear that if the ball rebounds from Tatum, it would rebound faster and therefore go farther than if it rebounded from Fuqua,” he said. His numbers show that, for the ball to rebound as far as it did, it had to ricochet off a player running toward it. Or, as University of Nebraska physics professor Timothy Gay put it, “Using the physics law of the conservation of momentum, it is only possible that the ball hit Tatum.” The officials, says Gay, “absolutely got the call right.” How could officials Burk and Harder make such complex physics calculations instantaneously? Silly question, says Gay. The officials didn’t have a slide rule handy, so Gay sensibly surmises that they saw Tatum touch the ball. Fetkovich goes a step further: “Let’s suppose that (the officials) not only
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had instant replay at the time, but also that all the officials were expert mathematicians and physicists, and they also had computers so they could do the calculations I did. They still would have to have made the same call. I think it’s just amazing that they made the right call.” So, despite the controversy, the call belongs on the list because of the high stakes and the incredible difficulty of getting the play right on one look. It took 30 years and a physicist to determine that the crew got it verifiably right. The call, as Fetkovich puts it, “is what Isaac Newton would have determined if he had been one of the referees.” From a physicist, there’s no higher praise. ■
NOVEMBER 6, 2000
THREE REFS HOLD WHISTLES IN CHECK DURING MNF “CIRCUS CATCH” TOM FINCKEN, GEORGE HAYWARD AND DON DORKOWSKI, CALLING OFFICIALS GREEN BAY PRESS-GAZETTE
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n a rainy Monday night at Lambeau Field, the Green Bay Packers were in overtime against the Minnesota Vikings, facing third down and four from their own 43 yardline. What followed is one of the most memorable plays in Monday Night Football and Packer history — a play that the officiating crew’s sharp eyes and patient whistles made possible. The Packers’ Brett Favre threw the ball down the right side of the field, where the Vikings’ Cris Dishman covered the Packers’ Antonio Freeman. Favre’s throw was off-target. Dishman reached up, knocked it down, formed a pair of fists and celebrated. Unfortunately for Dishman, the ball never hit the ground. As Freeman lay on his stomach, it ricocheted off the back of his left shoulder, then elbow, just inches off the grass. As Freeman rolled over to his right side, he got his right hand under the ball and gathered it in. Since he wasn’t touched, he got up and ran in for the winning touchdown. It seemed that everyone in Lambeau Field had given up on the play except for Freeman and the officials. Dishman had run past the play
thinking it was incomplete. ABC’s Al Michaels called the play incomplete. The crowd’s initial response indicated they saw an incompletion. But the three officials on the play never lost track of the ball, and for that, they earn a spot here. Side judge Tom Fincken was closest to the ball. Since Freeman’s body screened him from the catch, he held his whistle and trusted his partners who had better angles, head linesman George Hayward (trailing the play about 12 yards behind the catch) and back judge Don Dorkowski (running toward the catch from the hashmarks). Both of them correctly kept their whistles silent, and Dorkowski signaled touchdown as Freeman crossed the goalline. From the start, the officiating crew knew the answer to the question Michaels famously shouted: “He did what?” Had even one of the officials mistakenly signaled an incomplete pass, instant replay could only have restored Freeman’s catch, but not the touchdown, since the play would have been dead with the whistle. All that referee Dick Hantak could have done on the replay review was award Green Bay the ball at the Minnesota 16 yardline, the point of the catch. Green Bay could have been stopped there and forced to attempt a field goal to win the game — hardly a sure bet on such a rainy night. As it is, all the smiling Hantak had to do on the replay review was admire his crew’s excellent work and confirm Green Bay’s victory. ■ www.referee.com MarchWe’re 2007Most REFEREE Referee Magazine | Stories Proud Of47
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FEBRUARY 19, 2002
MAYBE THE CLOSEST CALL EVER IN THE NBA BOB DELANEY, SEAN CORBIN AND PHIL ROBINSON, CALLING OFFICIALS
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hen the Boston Celtics went into the Staples Center to face the defending champion Los Angeles Lakers during the stretch run of the 2002 season, a tight interconference tilt ended with one of the closest calls in NBA history. Boston led, 109-108, with 1.2 seconds on the clock, and the Lakers inbounded the ball at midcourt, where trail official Phil Robinson had responsibility for the clock. The ball went to Kobe Bryant on the right wing. His jumper went in — but did it beat the buzzer? Robinson, the trail official responsible for the shot, counted it. But Sean Corbin, the center official, disagreed. “He just gave me that look,” recalls Bob Delaney, who was in the lead position for the play. Delaney approached Corbin, who said the shot was late. A conference followed. Robinson felt the shot was good; Corbin believed Bryant hadn’t beaten the buzzer. As crew chief, and with conflicting information presented to him, Delaney had to make the call — without the benefit of instant replay, which was not adopted until the following season. He decided to think of what each official saw. “If I was in Phil’s position,” he explained, “as trail, I would go with the ball, then to the clock. On a play like that, you’re going to stay to see if there’s a foul. It’s a natural tendency. Sean is farthest away. He has no on-ball responsibilities on the play. He would go to the clock, then to the ball. He would have a better shot of knowing if the clock was at zeroes or not.” To put it another way, given conflicting information from two trusted sources, Delaney determined that looking at the clock first, as a center official would, provides a better call than looking at the ball first, as a trail official would. He adds, “If Sean’s seeing zeroes, then goes to the ball and sees ball on hand, we know we’ve got a shot that’s late. If you go ball to clock, you’re going to see the ball, and in that split second, you’re going to think ‘OK, now it’s at zeroes, and the ball has already left.’” On the basis of that logic, Delaney waved off the shot, much to the chagrin of Bryant and the Staples Center crowd. The Celtics won. Replay shows the play to be as close as possible — and correct. The ball is clearly but barely touching the end of Bryant’s right index finger with the clock showing 0.00. All three officials deserve credit. Delaney provided the leadership of a crew chief, gathering information and making a decision. Corbin provided information without selling out his partners. Robinson put crew integrity over his own ego, trusting his partners and going confidently with their decision. They were rewarded with a correct call in what might be the closest call on the list. ■ RICHARD HARTOG/L.A. TIMES PHOTOS
JANUARY 17, 1971
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MARION SEES TIP IN SUPER BOWL V ED MARION, CALLING OFFICIAL
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t happened so quick,” Ed Marion recalls. “You just have to be looking in the right place at the right time. That’s all.” Ed Marion, an NFL head linesman for 28 years, makes it sound simple, but his call in Super Bowl V was anything but. The Dallas Cowboys had just taken a 6-0 second-quarter lead over the Baltimore Colts. The Colts were in trouble, facing third and 10 from their own 25. Johnny Unitas threw a pass that was too high and wide for his intended receiver, Eddie Hinton. Hinton reached up, but the ball went just off his fingertips and headed downfield. Just behind him, Cowboys defender Mel Renfro also jumped for the ball. Incredibly, the ball also barely grazed his fingertips, and landed in the arms of the Colts’ John Mackey, who lumbered untouched for the score. Since the rules of the time prohibited one offensive receiver from tipping the ball to another, the touch by Renfro was needed for the touchdown to stand. Marion recalls: “As we’re running down the field, Norm Schachter, the referee, asked one of the officials, ‘Was it touched?’ and he said, ‘I don’t know.’ Then he asked me, ‘Eddie, did you see it?’ I said, ‘Yeah. It was touched.’ He said, ‘Are you sure?’ and I said ‘Yeah. Absolutely.’ He signaled touchdown.” Although several Cowboys complained, and many newspapers reported they disagreed with the call the next day, the video shows the ball’s rotation accelerating as it passes Renfro’s hand — irrefutable evidence of contact. Marion and his crewmates saw that replay at their hotel that night. “Either you were lucky,” Marion’s crewmates told him, “or you have awful good eyes.” Which does Marion believe is true? “I happened to be looking where I should have been looking, so in one sense, I was lucky. But I was doing my job.” That job was getting the closest call in Super Bowl history right — the biggest play in Baltimore’s 16-13 victory. ■
JANUARY 3, 2003
TERRY PORTER’S PASS INTERFERENCE CALL IN NATIONAL CHAMPIONSHIP GAME TERRY PORTER, CALLING OFFICIAL
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OCTOBER 14, 1992
MARSH CALLS BREAM SAFE BY AN EYELASH RANDY MARSH, CALLING UMPIRE RUSTY KENNEDY/AP PHOTO
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hat’s at stake? The NL pennant. With two out in the bottom of the ninth, the Pittsburgh Pirates were one out away from the World Series. They led the Atlanta Braves, 3-2, in Atlanta’s Fulton County Stadium, with Francisco Cabrera at the plate. The bases were loaded and the molasses-slow Sid Bream represented the pennantwinning run at second base. Cabrera grounded a single through the hole to Pirates left fielder Barry Bonds. Terry Pendleton scored the tying run from third, and Bream rounded third and headed for home. Home plate umpire Randy Marsh (who wasn’t even slated to be calling balls and strikes that day: he replaced John McSherry in the third inning when McSherry experienced chest pains) kept his composure. He did exactly what he was supposed to do, edging a step and a half to his left to get the best possible look at the play. Bonds’ throw was on time, but six feet up the first-base line. Pirates catcher Mike LaValliere retrieved the throw and dove back to the plate for the tag. Bream beat the throw by an eyelash and Marsh sold his call. Arguably, there hasn’t ever been a closer play at a more critical moment in baseball history. That alone makes this call one of the best. ■
BILL FRAKES/SPORTS ILLUSTRATED
JULY 26, 1996
UMPIRE’S OUT CALL ON APPEAL SENDS U.S. TO ONLY SECOND LOSS IN 115 GAMES MIKE HORNAK, CALLING UMPIRE
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he United States national softball team was in the midst of what nearly everyone assumed would be a romp to a gold medal at the 1996 Atlanta Olympics. Dot Richardson was working on a perfect game. Dani Tyler had just smashed a fifth-inning home run to give the Americans the lead against Australia. Excited, she ran through a sea of high fives at the plate. Everything looked great for the Americans. But Tyler was inattentive as she crossed the plate. Australian catcher Joyce Lester noticed, and so did first-base umpire Mike Hornak of Canada. Tyler had missed the plate. Lester appealed, and Hornak called Tyler out. What had been a 1-0 game was now a scoreless tie again. Hornak’s call required no small amount of courage, especially in light of the U.S. team’s 115-1 record in international play since 1986 and that team’s 60-1 record on its pre-Olympic tour. Hornak properly rotated to cover home plate on the play and therefore was in position to make a highly unusual, but ultimately correct, call. Australia eventually won the game, 2-1, in extra innings, ending Richardson’s perfect game and handing the Americans only their second loss in a decade. The loss took the U.S. team and the partisan crowd of 8,651 by surprise, but the U.S. came back to win the gold medal. Hornak’s careful mechanics and courage provided what might be the most memorable moment of the tournament, earning him his place on this list. ■ JOHN IACONO/SPORTS ILLUSTRATED
n his autobiography, legendary NBA official Earl Strom listed the most important attributes in an official. The number one most critical attribute was courage. Terry Porter showed courage. In overtime in the Fiesta Bowl, the 2002 BCS championship game, Ohio State trailed by a touchdown in the first overtime, and faced fourth down and three from the Miami Hurricanes’ five yardline. A Miami stop meant a Miami victory. Buckeye quarterback Craig Krenzel threw the ball to the right side of the end zone, looking for Chris Gamble. After a good deal of contact between Gamble and his defender, Glenn Sharpe, both on the pattern and during the catch, the ball fell incomplete. Hurricanes players celebrated and began rushing onto the field. With so much at stake, Porter, the back judge, wanted to get it right. “I replayed it in my mind,” he said after the game. The result was a slight delay in throwing the flag, which made Porter’s call more controversial than it might otherwise have been. However, Porter’s motivation was exactly what it should be, and it justifies the delay. As he said, “I wanted to make double-sure it was the right call.” He threw the flag for pass interference — though some in officiating circles debate to this day whether the call should have been holding — and Ohio State had a first down, and eventually the win and the national championship. Porter’s courage was exemplary, but he had the added benefit of being correct. It might have been difficult to hear them in the midst of the media firestorm, but both the Big 12 and the Big 10 backed Porter’s call. Even ESPN agreed, producing a program called, Five Reasons You Can’t Blame the Officials for Miami Losing the National Championship Game. Sharpe had gained an unfair advantage with his contact; therefore, a flag must be thrown, regardless of the stakes or intensity of the situation. Porter did himself proud that night. Earl Strom, too. ■
MARCH 27, 2005
WORLD WAITS WHILE BURR VERIFIES CORRECT CALL JIM BURR, CALLING OFFICIAL
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hen complimented for his officiating, Jim Burr exhibits great humility. His instinct is to refuse any credit for his work. After all, he insists that referees get too much blame when things go wrong so why should it be different if they’re praised for being right? Burr takes a different, but equally humble tack when asked about his huge call at the end of regulation of the 2005 Elite Eight match-up between Michigan State and Kentucky. He deflects the compliments to CBS’ replay crew. “The guy in the truck deserves a lot of credit. He did a tremendous job,” Burr says. Kentucky trailed the Spartans by three with 12.5 seconds to go in regulation. The Wildcats missed two three-pointers and retrieved two rebounds. The second rebound kicked out to the Wildcats’
Patrick Sparks near the top of the circle. His shot barely beat the buzzer, bounced on the rim several times and fell through the net. Burr, the center official, had a great look at the play. He confidently signaled a made three-point goal, and, as the rules dictate, headed to the sidelines to check the replay. There, he encountered new friends: the CBS video crew. Burr talked to associate director Steve Karasik, who passed on the information to producer Bob Dekas, director Bob Fishman and the rest of the crew in the truck. Burr found that in the best angle on the shot, Sparks’ toes are obscured by a defender’s leg. He knew he had to seek more, and better, information from a different angle. “I asked if there’s any way that he can zoom in on (Sparks’) foot, and he said yes he could, but it would take two or three minutes. I told him I didn’t care how long it took,” Burr says. The crowd and the nation waited for technical director Scott Sickler to do his work. “He just kept blowing it up,” Burr says, and in the end he saw that, “the kid’s foot is just barely behind the three-point line.” His patience was rewarded. Michigan State recovered from the shock of Sparks’ shot and won in double overtime. Karasik, the man on the phone with Burr, recalls how calm Burr was. “A lot of times, when you deal with referees, especially in situations like that, you can sort of sense how anxious they are or how much pressure they’re under,” Karasik recalls. Burr, however, “really was pretty calm, cool and collected the whole time. It was pretty impressive looking back on it now, considering the whole stadium was on its feet waiting for his call.” Burr is grateful for the help he had. “I was lucky,” he says. “If you’re at a normal game, you might not have the luxury of having that kind of equipment at your disposal.” But Burr’s gratitude for the help in the truck overlooks a simple fact: In the end, he didn’t need any help. His perfect positioning and sharp eyes enabled him to get the call right. All the bells and whistles of replay technology — and the agonizing but necessary wait — merely confirmed it. ■
JUNE 4, 1976
POWERS CLEARS FLOOR AND PUTS ONE SECOND BACK ON THE CLOCK RICHIE POWERS, CALLING OFFICIAL
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he greatest game ever calls for the greatest game management ever. At the end of the second overtime of game five of the 1976 NBA Finals between the Boston Celtics and the visiting Phoenix Suns, Richie Powers lived up to that rule. John Havlicek’s running banker put the Celtics up, 110-109. Although the ball went through the hoop while two seconds showed on the clock, and although Powers clearly and boisterously signaled for the clock to stop, the clock operator let time expire. Security was notoriously lax at Boston Garden that day, with fans reportedly attacking play-by-play man Brent Musburger, and virtually placing themselves in the Suns’ huddle. So when the unruly fans mobbed the court to celebrate what they believed to be the game-winning shot, it would have been very easy simply to leave the court. Richie Powers did not. Under impossible circumstances, surrounded by unruly fans who would be enraged by his decision, he managed to clear the court, regain control and put a second back on the clock. Because of that, the classic game was permitted its most enduring moments. Paul Westphal signaled for an excess timeout, giving up a technical free throw for the right to inbound the ball at midcourt instead of the endline. Then, Gar Heard hit a turnaround jump shot to send the game into a third overtime, which Boston won. Powers’ call wasn’t difficult in a basketball sense. Replays show that the clock should have been stopped. But his call was difficult in a human sense. Powers showed tremendous courage that day. He quite literally put himself at risk by doing the right thing, providing an example for the rest of us. ■
JANUARY 19, 2002
THE “TUCK RULE” GAME WALT COLEMAN, CALLING OFFICIAL
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ou’d think that after five years of being known as “the Tuck Rule guy,” Walt Coleman would get tired of talking about that snowy night in Foxboro, Mass. That’s not the case at all. “I love talking about football,” the affable Coleman says. “I think I’m so fortunate to have the opportunity to officiate in the NFL. So I never get tired of talking about football and the NFL and the great opportunities that I’ve had.” With 1:43 remaining in the first-round playoff game, the Patriots trailed by a field goal and had no timeouts left. Quarterback Tom Brady dropped back to pass and pump-faked as the Raiders’ Charles Woodson blitzed. According to Coleman, “Woodson passes in front of me as he’s getting to Brady. Basically, he screens me out from seeing exactly what’s going on with the football. So he hits Brady, they go down and I see the ball laying there in the snow. An Oakland player jumps on the ball. Well, the ball disappeared from my sight, so I wasn’t exactly sure what Brady did with the ball as he brought it in.” Coleman called the play a fumble, following NFL guidelines on plays like that: an incorrectly called fumble can be overturned, unlike an incorrectly called incomplete pass. What followed was the replay review that still sparks controversy, especially in the Bay Area, but not to Coleman. “It was an easy call,” Coleman says. “I mean, I obviously know what the pass/fumble rule is. I know what the tuck rule is.” The first shot Coleman saw is the famous shot that millions of people saw on TV … a perfect shot right at Brady’s chest. “What it clearly shows is that Brady is bringing the ball down. He gets the ball all the way down to his waist level, and he gets hit and the ball comes out. Well, that’s still a forward pass, based on the NFL rulebook. It specifically says that if arm motion starts forward it’s a forward pass until the quarterback tucks the ball back against his body. And he obviously didn’t have it tucked back. So it was easy: It was an incomplete pass. The only problem was that I ruled fumble.” Coleman was then faced with the unenviable task of overruling his own call. Rather than Oakland kneeling to advance to the AFC Championship game, New England had new life, and, as Coleman says, “the rest is history. Obviously the play wouldn’t mean anything if you don’t take into account what happened afterward.” The Patriots drove through the snow for a tying Adam Vinatieri field goal, and won the game with another in overtime. They went on to win Super Bowl XXXVI against the Rams to begin what many consider a dynasty. Without Coleman’s knowledge and enforcement of the NFL rulebook, there’s no guarantee any of that would have come to fruition. ■ MATT CAMPBELL/AFP PHOTO
OCTOBER 14, 1975
NO-CALL ON FISK/ARMBRISTER COLLISION LARRY BARNETT, CALLING UMPIRE
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ever in World Series history have fans so universally run to their rulebooks. In the bottom of the 10th inning of game three of the 1975 World Series, Cincinnati had Cesar Geronimo representing the lead run on first base, and pinch-hit Ed Armbrister in an effort to advance the runner. When Armbrister’s bunt settled right in front of home plate, he headed to first as Red Sox catcher Carlton Fisk stepped out to field the ball. They collided. Some awaited an interference call from Larry Barnett. It never came. Fisk’s subsequent throw for the force at second was wild, and the Reds
had men on second and third with nobody out. Joe Morgan’s single three batters later gave the Reds the win. The media went crazy attacking Barnett’s no-call. The media was wrong. “All the public felt it was incorrect because they were quoting the rule that says if a batter interferes with a fielder making a play on the ball, he’s out for interference,” says Tom Lepperd, the current director of umpire administration for Major League Baseball. “And they kept replaying it and saying, ‘Look, that’s clearly what happened.’” The media were citing only part of the rule. They were either ignoring or forgetting another part, which, as Lepperd paraphrases, says this: “If the contact occurs in the vicinity of home plate right as the play occurs, it’s nothing. As long as both players are trying to do what they’re supposed to do, it’s called nothing.” The play is such a classic example of that exception to the interference rule that it is used as a case study to this day in umpire schools. None of that helped Barnett through the difficult aftermath of the call, which included lambasting from a misinformed public and at least one death threat. Nevertheless, when faced with a difficult play under pressure, Barnett got it right. He is to be commended for both his guts and his knowledge. ■ www.referee.com MarchWe’re 2007Most REFEREE Referee Magazine | Stories Proud Of51
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APRIL 3, 1994
COURTEAU, MORNINGSTAR CALL CHARLOTTE SMITH’S SHOT GOOD JUNE COURTEAU AND JOHN MORNINGSTAR, CALLING OFFICIALS
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even-tenths of a second until women’s basketball is on the map. Louisiana Tech led North Carolina, 59-57, in the 1994 NCAA final when North Carolina inbounded the ball from the left side of its basket. Under the watchful eyes of officials June Courteau and John Morningstar, Charlotte Smith executed the most important play in women’s NCAA history. Courteau and Morningstar had talked about the last shot during the two timeouts that preceded Smith’s shot. “When they came out of the first timeout, it looked like a setup for a play to the inside to tie the ballgame up,” recalls Courteau. After the Tar Heels were unable to inbound the ball and called another timeout, however, “there were going to be a lot more options to consider.” Then, when
the pass went to Smith behind the three-point line, “I thought, ‘Oh my God, they’re going for the three! They’re going for the win!’” Smith’s shot caused unique problems because, in 1994, the NCAA women’s tournament still used two-person officiating crews. Smith launched her threepointer from the right wing, in the gray area between Courteau and Morningstar’s coverage areas. Because of that, Courteau and Morningstar had a challenging task seeing the game-winner. Courteau set up near the key on the opposite side of Smith’s shot, handing the ball to inbounder Stephanie Lawrence. When the pass went across the court to Smith, Courteau chopped in the clock, dashed across the lane and kept her eyes on Smith. While in motion, she determined that the shot was a three-pointer and released before the buzzer. Morningstar helped from the trail position, however. “As soon as I saw the ball go out, I took a little glance to make sure the clock started, and then immediately went to the feet because they weren’t contesting the shot — to make sure that her feet were behind the line,” he said. “It’s just one of those things that you do so many times in games where you just have to know that your instincts are right and know that you’re in control of the situation.” With nothing else to consider but the clock and the three-point line, both officials made the call at a tough angle. “At that point in time, we both had it,” Courteau explains. “Obviously, when that ball went out there, there’s only one thing going on. You’ve got seven-tenths of a second. You’re not going to be calling anything else.” They had each other covered. Their exemplary teamwork under pressure earns them a place here. ■
JANUARY 8, 2000
“THE MUSIC CITY MIRACLE” BYRON BOSTON, CALLING OFFICIAL
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nstinct and habit carried Byron Boston through what turned out to be anything but a routine situation in a 2000 AFC Wild-Card playoff game. After a Steve Christie field goal gave the Buffalo Bills a 16-15 lead over the Tennessee Titans with 16 seconds left on the clock, referee Phil Luckett and his crew, including Boston, knew something unusual was about to begin. “We knew that Tennessee would have to make some kind of desperation play, and we kind of assumed that it would be some type of series of backward passes,” Boston recalled. As it turned out, they were wrong. Tennesse took only one pass. The Titans’ Lorenzo Neal fielded the squib kickoff and handed it to teammate Frank Wycheck. Wycheck ran a few steps to his right and then wheeled left. As the Bills converged on him, Wycheck chucked the ball nearly the entire width of the field to Kevin Dyson, who ran down the sideline untouched for what turned out to be the winning touchdown. But was the pass backward or forward? Wycheck’s brief delay before the big throw bought Boston the time he needed to get into position to cover the play. “When Wycheck threw the ball back across the field, fortunately I was close enough that I could see that the pass was parallel at least, and so naturally I stuck my arm back,” Boston said. “That was key: I stuck my arm back signaling that it was a backward pass.” Before Tennessee could snap the ball for the extra point, Luckett was summoned to review Wycheck’s throw on instant replay. Boston, alongside him for the review, remembers thinking that “whatever decision he made was going to eliminate a team from the playoffs.” Luckett knew that the TV audience was hearing a discussion of whether Wycheck’s throw was
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BOB ROSATO/SPORTS ILLUSTRATED
forward or backward. He could see the lines the announcers were drawing. “I just ignored it,” Luckett said, “and continued to do my job.” In the end, Luckett upheld Boston’s call. “It wasn’t a guess,” Luckett asserts. “Byron did a good job covering the play and signaling his ruling.” How close was the play? “I guess if you were a Tennessee fan, (the pass) was a little bit backward and if you were a Buffalo fan, it was probably a little bit forward,” Boston jokes. But he got it right. Luckett wasn’t the only person to confirm his call. Boston’s call was also backed by the league and confirmed by an NFL Films analysis of the play. In the end, the play wasn’t a miracle. It was an outstanding play call by the Titans and a fine throw by Wycheck, all confirmed by Boston’s impeccable mechanics. “I think it was a difficult call to make, but being a line judge, I’m used to ruling backward passes, because in the NFL, line judges rule all passes forward or backward,” Boston said. “I didn’t really have a problem doing the call because it was basically instinct.” ■
MARCH 19, 2005
DESPERATION SHOT IS GOOD IN MINNESOTA HIGH SCHOOL BASKETBALL FINAL MIKE BRONSON, STEVE BULLERT AND MARK EKREN, CALLING OFFICIALS COURTESY OF MSHSL INSTANT REPLAY
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ate in the second overtime of the state title game, Eastview High School took a two-point lead and there was a delay in stopping the clock as the opponent, Hopkins High School, desperately signaled for a timeout. The game officials, Mike Bronson, Steve Bullert and Mark Ekren decided to put 2.6 seconds on the clock (which, replays showed, was about right) for Hopkins to somehow go the length of the court and score. What followed won the 2005 ESPY Award for “Play of the Year.” The inbounds pass sailed the length of the court and, after a scramble, ended up in the hands of shooter Blake Hoffarber, sitting on the floor out on the wing with his feet in the air. He just threw the ball and it hit nothing but net. The big question was, did it get off in time? The officials huddled and agreed that the shot got off in time and the boy’s tailbone was in two-point land, tying the game. Soon everybody else in the Target Center agreed that the call was good because they could see the replay on the scoreboard’s TV screens, which the refs didn’t have the benefit of seeing when making their call.
“The officials got it right,” said Kevin Merkle, associate director of the Minnesota State High School League (MSHSL), “but what if they hadn’t? We could have easily given the trophy to the wrong team.” When deciding on whether to implement instant replay, the MSHSL, cognizant of the media attention that subsequently surrounded that play, considered what might have happened had the officials been wrong. Bronson, Bullert and Ekren’s call effectively decided the outcome of a game that had all the trappings of a major college contest or even an NBA game. There were TV monitors all around showing the play in super slow-motion for the crowd — and the thousands of cable TV viewers watching at home — to see that the shot got off in time. Yet those high school referees had no benefit of replay and had to rely on their skill, training and courage to see them through. ■
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