This past weekend I attended my first British National Championship. Not as a competitor — I am not, after all, a British national — but as a referee.
I had some trepidations about this. British Fencing does not pay referees (other than expenses), a money-saving move which — in this blogger’s opinion — hurts the quality of the sport in the country a great deal, and results in many potential strong referees deciding not to referee. This in fact happened during this year’s championships, with most British sabre referees competing, but I digress. The refusal to pay referees is a big part of the reason why I had not previously refereed a British Fencing-run event. That I like the sport and am generally happy to referee does not mean that I want to do so for free.
However, a few compelling reasons had pushed me towards attending.
First, I had not been to a competition in any capacity since October. This is simply too long. British competitions suffer from a couple of problems — they are overcrowded and under-refereed — which make it rather easy to find an excuse to be absent. But I missed simply being at a fencing competition and very much wanted to go.
Second, I thought it would be a good development opportunity. British men’s foil is as good as you will find anywhere, so the quality of the fencing would be excellent, and with the top British referees in attendance, I hoped that I would find some opportunity to improve as a referee.
Finally, I looked forward to the times at the end of the day after I had been dismissed as a referee — as a first-timer at the Nationals and without an FIE license, I was sure to have a relatively early end to my days. I could then cheer on my clubmates and take photographs.
Instead, I found myself being used the entire day. The pre-tournament meeting was at 8:40 in the morning. I refereed a woman’s foil semi-final around 6:00 in the afternoon — by that point, all my clubmates had been eliminated. And I was standing beside a piste as an assesseur at 9:15 in the evening when the final hit of the day was scored.
All in all, on Saturday, I worked a twelve-and-a-half hour day. For free. With all the various stresses that come with being a referee. On Sunday, I had a little bit of a reprieve due to an early train time and a competition that was running behind schedule, and was free after the men’s foil quarterfinals.
With two of my club’s teams still in the action, and forty-five minutes before I had to catch a cab to the train station, it gave me a few minutes to watch the end of a woman’s foil semi-final, and the start of a men’s foil semi-final, with friends and clubmates competing.
And I realised that this was what I wanted when I agreed to come and referee. To spend time with these people, to cheer them on — even if I was not actually competing with them. The free train ticket and hotel room provided by British Fencing to referees had proved a strong lure.
My Saturday was awful. I was exhausted, over-warm in my suit on a July team in a room full of sweaty fencers, unpaid, and I did not get to watch more than one bout by my clubmates. I took three photographs. Sunday was only marginally improved, and only because I had to leave early.
It is not what I wanted. And while I was hardly the most abused official of the day — others had tougher schedules, and had to deal with more problematic fencers and coaches than I did — it is not something that I think I will do again. There is just too much of a gap between what I put into it and what I got out of it.
And that’s sad.
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