Locker room visitors had questions just for me

High school basketball playoff officiating assignments are made based on rankings from coaches and each board’s qualified members.

Top-rated officials are rightly chosen to work the top games.

I was ranked in the top 10 for girls basketball for a couple years in my so-called prime.

Many of my board’s top officials only officiated boys games. With less competition, my lofty girls ranking was more than a bit inflated.

I was chosen for a handful of girls playoff games in my career, the most significant one a Class D semifinal between Brocton and Clymer in the then newly constructed Cassadaga Valley Central School gym.

Apparently I was a compromise pick. Those officials rated above me were either unavailable or disqualified for various reasons. Officials cannot work for a team in consecutive playoff games and coaches can veto refs they didn’t like.

Clymer won the game. Afterward I returned to the locker room to change clothes and shower.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door. My officiating partner answered it.

He said there were some Clymer fans out in the hallway who wanted to see me. They had questions only I could answer.

Yikes! I was more than a little bit concerned.

Could it have been the two technical fouls I had assessed to Clymer coach Ed Bailey in the heat of the game? Back then, it took three technical fouls to disqualify and remove a coach.

Bailey was and remains a legend in his small town. He was a record-setting basketball all-star turned successful coach. He later became high school principal and superintendent.

Never before had I been the subject of any post-game attention and was understandably hesitant.

I asked my partner if the Clymer fans appeared angry. He laughed and said no. They were elderly and clearly harmless.

He held them at bay while I finished changing and then I cautiously stepped out into the hall.

The frail couple introduced themselves and then asked me the question they were curious about.

“Are you related to referee Mark Hammond of Dunkirk?”

“Yes,” I admitted, and asked “Why?”

Seems my dad was their all-time favorite referee and they were pleased I had followed in his footsteps.

They then asked if I was the son who was on crutches as a young boy and I nodded affirmatively.

When I inquired how they knew so much about my family, they explained.

Seems whenever my dad worked a game in Clymer starting in the 1950s, he spent time talking to their now-deceased son, who would sit courtside and cheer for his hometown team. He was disabled and wheelchair-bound.

It was decades ago he interacted with my dad, whose pre-game duties left him in close proximity.

My dad always made it a point to talk with him and his parents and they eventually learned about his family back in Dunkirk.

Dad unfailingly brought the boy a present, sometimes candy, other times a small toy. Whatever he could fit in his pocket.

They asked about my dad’s health and were happy to hear he was doing better thanks to an implanted heart pacemaker.

We parted with promises to convey their gratitude to my dad and offer to look them up whenever I had a game in Clymer.

I passed on their kind thoughts to my dad back at the OBSERVER office later that night. He was sad to hear of his young friend’s passing.

He even said a short prayer for the boy. It was something the former seminarian would routinely do.

I was immediately reminded of my sister Mary’s oft-repeated description of her father:

“My dad was the nicest man I ever met.”

She’s not the only one who thinks that.

——

Bill Hammond is a former EVENING OBSERVER Sports Editor.