Words From The Warden

Self Control
I have always had a temper, even if most people rarely see it. Over the years, I have worked hard to manage myself and my emotions instead of letting anger take over.

My brother Mike still teases me about how poorly I handled losing when we were younger—even during a simple game of Parcheesi.

One of the greatest gifts officiating gave me was the lesson that I am responsible for my emotions, especially my anger. The person who sparks those hostile feelings is not in control of me; I am.

Early in my officiating career, I worked a seventh-grade basketball game where the home coach spoke so harshly to the young scorekeeper that she began to sob.

When I confronted him about his comments, he dismissed her as incompetent. I was furious. I bit down so hard on my plastic whistle that it broke, and then I assessed him a technical foul.

My anger did not stop there. When the visiting coach, whom I knew well, stood up and said, “Hank, he deserved that,” I assessed him a technical foul, too.

It took several minutes before I could regain my focus and return to officiating the game. Afterward, I made a promise to myself: I would learn to control my reactions instead of letting my anger control me.

Proverbs 29:11 reminds us that a fool gives full expression to anger, while a wise person stays calm and holds it back. That truth has stayed with me because anger clouds our judgment and keeps us from thinking clearly or acting rationally.

Much later in my career, I officiated a women’s basketball game between Bowling Green State University and the University of Toledo. The BGSU Falcons were coached by Fran Voll, and the Rockets were led by Bill Fennelly.

Before the game, the conference commissioner warned me that Coach Fennelly did not like me. Because it was a high-profile matchup, the officiating crew had been chosen from the best available officials. I was also told to handle Bill with “kid gloves.”

During the first half, something happened on the floor that upset Coach Fennelly. He shouted, jumped into the air, threw his clipboard down, and kicked the bench. His behavior was clearly enough to earn a technical foul.

But during the outburst, the seam of his trousers split from front to back, and everyone could see his underwear. I put my whistle in my mouth and started walking toward him like I was Wyatt Earp.

He argued, “You can’t give me a T.” When I got close enough, I told him I would only give him a technical if he continued showing us his skivvies. He had no idea what had happened.

There was a time when the kind of behavior he exhibited would have pushed me into anger. Instead, I stayed calm, acted rationally, and won him over from that day forward.

Ephesians 4:26 teaches that anger itself is not the sin; the danger comes when we let it linger, grow, and give the devil room to work. I have to confess that I have not always followed that advice.

In the spring of 1996, I was offered the opportunity to officiate a third season in NFL Europe. I asked for vacation time, but my boss denied the request for no apparent reason.

Several weeks later, I had breakfast with Jerry, the NFL supervisor of officials, to find out where I stood in the queue to be considered for the NFL. He told me bluntly that I would have been brought in for the 1996 season. However, if my boss could not support my absence for one week, the NFL knew he would not support me through a sixteen-week season.

That opportunity ended. Jerry then called the Big Ten to recommend me, and I was selected to officiate in the Big Ten in 1996.

I was angry with my boss, and I allowed that anger to simmer.

In 1997, I was assigned to officiate Notre Dame at Florida State. When my boss found out, he told me it was not going to happen because he wanted me to work at the State Cross Country tournament instead.

After days of pleading and arguing, I called my Big Ten supervisor and turned down the game. When he asked why, I explained the situation. He told me that if it happened again, he would have to let me go.

Then, on the morning of the tournament, my boss came to see whether I was there. Once he saw me, he simply told me I could go home.

My anger toward my OHSAA boss became unmanageable. I behaved terribly toward him until his retirement, and it was not until several years later that I finally mended our relationship.

Today, he thinks of me as a friend, and I feel the same way toward him.

Looking back, I ask myself why I let my anger fester for so long. In the end, it hurt me more than anyone else.

I know now that pride and ambition kept me from seeing the situation from my boss’s point of view. Instead of releasing my anger, I held on to resentment, harsh thoughts, and unkind words.

Colossians 3:8 reminds us to put those things away. Buddy Hackett said it well: “While you’re carrying a grudge, the other guy is out dancing.”

Peace,

Henry Zaborniak, Senior Warden