How to Criticize Effectively

Whether a rookie or a veteran, criticism is a part of each game we work. Usually, our biggest critics are found in the stands, on the sidelines and in the uniforms. Our best critics, however, can be our partners and officials’ observers.

Receiving constructive criticism from respected partners and observers is a necessary step in an officials’ growth. We need their feedback to gauge how we are doing. No matter how long you’ve been officiating, seek constructive criticism often. Look for patterns of criticism; if many people tell you you’re doing something, likely they are right.

Sooner or later, you’re going to be asked to give criticism. That will test your perceptions and people skills. You must be sufficiently perceptive to note things your partner needs to work on and you must present them in an effective way. The learning process ends when someone asks, "What do I need to work on?" and the response is, "Nothing. You had a great game." Everyone has something to work on. The learning process is also damaged when the respondent criticizes ineffectively. The official seeking knowledge will tune the criticizer out. The official may even be so disillusioned by the experience that he will not seek constructive criticism again.

Roy Yarborough, a member of the National Intercollegiate Soccer Officials’ Association (NISOA) Hall of Fame, wrote a column titled, "How to Criticize Effectively" for the NISOA newsletter years ago. Listed below in bold are Yarborough’s 12 points. Following each item are additional comments to consider.

1. Identify the behavior that you want to criticize. Direct your criticism at the action, not the person. The less personal you make your comments, the less likely the person will become defensive and uncooperative.

2. Make criticism specific. Not: "You always miss game reports." But: "You missed the March 15 game report." Rash generalizations are counterproductive and tough to prove. The more specific the criticism, the easier it is to justify the criticism.

3. Be sure the behavior you’re criticizing can be changed. Foreign accents, baldness and other similar things cannot always be changed. Pick out specifics the official can work on and see improvement.

4. Use "I" and "we" to stress that you want to work out the problem together, rather than making threats. Officiating can be a lonely business. By using "we," the official feels he’s not alone.

5. Make sure the people you criticize understand the reason for your criticism is to improve their game and themselves. Put a positive spin on your comments; they are meant to improve things.

6. Don’t belabor the point. Short and sweet, no lectures. No one likes to be talked down to.

7. Offer incentives for changed behavior, therefore producing a better game. Offer to help the person correct the problem. Improved performance can lead to improved opportunities.

8. Don’t set a tone of anger or sarcasm. Both are counterproductive. The more sarcasm used, the less likely the official will listen.

9. Show the person you understand his or her feelings: "I’ve learned from the same mistakes." Assure the official that we’ve all been there before and had the same feelings or made the same mistakes. Again, the official will not feel alone.

10. If you’re putting your criticism in writing, cool off before writing the critical letter or memo. Be sure only the person it is intended for sees it. If you write your report shortly after an incident, emotions tend to appear. Take good notes at the game, then review them later and write the report.

11. Start off by saying something good. Assure the official that he or she did some good things and that there are things that person can work on to get better

12. At the end, reaffirm your support and confidence in the person. Reassure the official that you are there to help the official improve. You may even tell the official you wouldn’t waste your time with criticism if you didn’t think he or she was worth it. End it on a positive note so the official has something to look forward to – and something to work on – for the next game

Pull Up a Chair ...

Everyone who’s ever stepped onto a field, court or rink to officiate a game has a story to tell. Here’s a recollection from an official that anyone who’s officiated a championship game can relate to. (Do you have a story to tell? Write it down and e-mail to lastcall@referee.com.)

Goose Bumps and Shivers
By Jeff Leaf

Nearly 400 officials started out in the pool – we were the last seven standing.

Of the 122 teams that started the season in August, only two were now left. And my crew was selected to officiate their game, the NCAA Division I-AA football national championship game in December 2000, Georgia Southern vs. Montana.

We flew to the host city, Chattanooga, Tenn., from our East Coast homes on Thursday night for the Saturday game. Throughout the weekend I watched as the guys’ joy and enthusiasm kept stupid grins plastered on their faces. We had a pretty young crew: This was the back judge’s first year doing college football, the field judge and umpire were in their second year and the referee was in his second year at that position. At the other end of the spectrum, I came in as the side judge with 24 years in the Mid-Eastern Athletic Conference (MEAC). The two others fell between the two extremes.

I was the old man on the crew, a little more jaded than the rest. I’d been wrestling all season with questions about my officiating career, whether to come back for another season or maybe just finish it up with this last, once-in-a-lifetime assignment.

On Friday, we had some free time to see the city. We loaded up (and pretty much blew our game fees) on souvenirs, T shirts, hats – anything with the championship game logo on it. Knowing the chances of making it back were probably slim, we wanted to make some memories.

Friday, at the stadium, everyone was still giddy. We looked like the stereotypical group of tourists, taking all kinds of pictures – in the locker room, the media room, on the field, everywhere.

On game day in the locker room our crew chief went over a few things, but mostly we were quiet. We each went inside ourselves to find the private place we use to prepare. Finally, our referee spoke some well-planned words to pull us together and focus us for the game. The last thing he said was, "Leave it all on the field."

It didn’t really hit me until I began inspecting the field before the game. I was happy to be there, sure, but I didn’t feel the passion that the others felt until that moment. The stadium in Chattanooga is intimate. The fans are close. As I walked in front of the Georgia Southern stands, the energy hit me. I hadn’t felt goose bumps and shivers like that before a game for a long time. The questions I’d had all season – wondering if I still loved officiating, wondering why my dissatisfaction was growing – all faded away during that walk. I had made it. I got to the big one. It was what I’d been working toward for 34 years.

My enthusiasm swelled when the national anthem started. I felt the tears come up in my eyes, and I thought, "Everyone else is home and I’m working the national championship." It felt great. It felt like it used to.

Most games, I take several plays to mentally get into the game. Not that day. On the first play, Georgia Southern broke a long run that cut back to my side. I was in it up to my eyeballs, and I stayed that way the whole game.

The contest lived up to the hype of a championship. The final score was 27-25, Georgia Southern winning the title. But Montana had a chance to win it up until the last play of the game. After the game, the losing coach gave the referee, Flemon Williams, a hug and thanked him for a good game.

In our locker room afterward, the emotion was off the scale. All of us felt … I don’t know what. I only know that I had never felt that high after any game I had ever played or officiated. We hugged. A few of us cried. If you didn’t know better, you would have thought we were the winning team. I guess we were. What we shared and won’t forget is that together, we faced the highest challenge we could find. And we won.

As for me, working that game didn’t completely stop the questions running through my mind. But I came back for another season. And it felt better than it had in a long time.

Jeff Leaf is a teacher, official and writer from Annandale, Va.

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