Not a ham bone or a turkey bone, thank goodness. Not a funny bone, either. And not a Thugs-N-Harmony Bone, for what it's worth.
I already picked this bone with someone on Facebook this morning, but apparently I wasn't satisfied. So I'll pick it again here on the blog...
After working at the restaurant last night, I got home just in time to watch the fourth quarter of the Franklin American Mortgage Company Music City Bowl last night, between the North Carolina Tarheels and my beloved Tennessee Volunteers.
My Vols were winning the game by three points when time expired on the game clock. They won the game. Then, all of a sudden, they didn't.
Apparently, the Christmas Spirit was still hard at work in Nashville last night, because one of the officiating crew was feeling mighty charitable. In an astounding show of goodwill, North Carolina received a free try at a field goal, which they kicked successfully. The tied game went into overtime.
I'll spare you the rest of the details of the game, but the end result was most unfortunate, from where I was sitting.
Through the television set, I was fed the following rationale for the bizarre, unlikely turn of events that took place at the end of the fourth quarter: On the last play before time expired, the officials said after reviewing a video replay, the clock should have been stopped with one second remaining in the game.
When I officiated HS football three or four years ago, one of the jobs in the officiating crew, in addition to the striped guys you see out on the field, was clock operator. Starting and stopping the clock were that person's only functions. And both were done using the same button. Easy enough.
I was told in my very first game as clock operator that the cardinal rule of being clock operator, no matter what happened on the field, was that you never, ever, ever stop the clock leaving only one second at the end of a half. Just let it run out. This is justified in the high school football rule book because it says the clock operator must be given a "reasonable amount of time" to react to the other officials' signals at the end of a play. So the span of one second is generally considered within the margin of human error - a margin too insignificant to expect the person operating the clock to account for every single time the clock is started or stopped.
As it was explained to me, the main reason for this rule is avoiding the type of hysterical ending that played out last night - people leaving and/or rushing onto the field, and then having to be ushered off or called back on before resuming the last play of the game. The crew simply wouldn't insist on holding itself responsible for a game that was complete. Zero on the clock meant the game result was final.
A side effect of this rule was that it allowed the crew to initiate their "escape plan" the moment the game became finalized. They actually had a mapped-out scheme, kinda like a fire escape plan, where the officials were able to be in the same vehicle heading off-campus within seconds of the last tick, and they went over the plan together before each game. So they kinda knew two seconds before everyone else that the game was over, and could maybe get a head start on the unruly mob coming after them for all the other bad calls.
All that said, I'm a little miffed because in sports, "final" is supposed to be "final". Not, "let's go back after it's final and look at the tape to make sure it was really final." If the game isn't finalized after time expires, then when do you draw the line? Seven minutes later? 25 minutes? Could the officials have waited until this morning to call the teams back to the stadium and replay the last second of regulation time? Maybe next week they could make the trip back to Nashville?
I was told in my very first game as clock operator that the cardinal rule of being clock operator, no matter what happened on the field, was that you never, ever, ever stop the clock leaving only one second at the end of a half. Just let it run out. This is justified in the high school football rule book because it says the clock operator must be given a "reasonable amount of time" to react to the other officials' signals at the end of a play. So the span of one second is generally considered within the margin of human error - a margin too insignificant to expect the person operating the clock to account for every single time the clock is started or stopped.
As it was explained to me, the main reason for this rule is avoiding the type of hysterical ending that played out last night - people leaving and/or rushing onto the field, and then having to be ushered off or called back on before resuming the last play of the game. The crew simply wouldn't insist on holding itself responsible for a game that was complete. Zero on the clock meant the game result was final.
A side effect of this rule was that it allowed the crew to initiate their "escape plan" the moment the game became finalized. They actually had a mapped-out scheme, kinda like a fire escape plan, where the officials were able to be in the same vehicle heading off-campus within seconds of the last tick, and they went over the plan together before each game. So they kinda knew two seconds before everyone else that the game was over, and could maybe get a head start on the unruly mob coming after them for all the other bad calls.
All that said, I'm a little miffed because in sports, "final" is supposed to be "final". Not, "let's go back after it's final and look at the tape to make sure it was really final." If the game isn't finalized after time expires, then when do you draw the line? Seven minutes later? 25 minutes? Could the officials have waited until this morning to call the teams back to the stadium and replay the last second of regulation time? Maybe next week they could make the trip back to Nashville?
2010 is just about final. If the year were 60 minutes long, I imagine we'd be in the last second or two as I write this. I'm gonna
go ahead and consider it 2011 at this point, because unlike the Franklin American Mortgage Company Music City Bowl officials, I can't go back and fix the mistakes I made in 2010. You can only leave them behind you.People make New Year's resolutions with a mind to change something about themselves in the future. Thinking about the future is good. Studies in sport psychology have shown that constantly visualizing yourself performing something well can lead to better actual performance when it counts.
But what if the word "resolution" took on a slightly different meaning? Let's look at the word "resolve". To resolve to do something (like lose weight) is to make up your mind - to leave no doubt. But to resolve a problem or situation is also to bring about a suitable ending. The first definition - the one folks use most often around this time of year - looks optimistically toward the future, but the second one focuses more realistically on the past and the present.
In past blog entries I've played down the use of strict principles and bold proclamations as motivation. So, I'm gonna go with the second type of resolution this year. I've decided I can make up my mind as many times as I want - I can make myself a new promise after every weekend, or at the beginning of every month. It may be the surest thing I've ever felt. But chances are, I'm gonna feel zero confidence at some point in the future. Will that promise alone be enough?
I picked up alot of bad habits in 2009 and 2010. General laziness, for one. And procrastination. And lack of organization. Knowing and staying aware of your weaknesses is a great first step in resolving them.
So instead of reaching for something in the future, I'm gonna try to leave some things in the past. When 2010 goes final, I'll have lived and learned quite a good deal for one year. What more suitable ending to 2010 than to completely leave it behind, and to use those lessons learned to my advantage in 2011?And maybe next year, at the 2011 Franklin American Mortgage Company Music City Bowl, they can bring the teams back and finally finish the game that never should have ended last night.
