… that is the question.

Is it nobler to spend the long hours of one’s day at a thankless and exhausting chore? Or better to avoid refereeing where and when possible?

This is the question that was posed to me – more or less – by the entry form to this year’s Norfolk Open. It is a surprising question, in that it is normally not asked on the form. It is also an unsurprising question, in that there is not a tournament (for adults) in the UK in which the fencers do not have to referee themselves.

Even the national championships and Leon Paul Cup feature some self-refereed pools.

Since I have arrived in the UK — despite very much disliking the concept of the self-refereed event — I have contributed pretty much as much as I could, at almost every event I have attended. I am what you might call “not bad” at the whole refereeing thing (which is an attribute not shared by many of my fellow fencers), and figured that by pitching in I was improving things.

But I wonder if my contributions are actually improving things, or merely contributing to the status quo. The last tournament I attended featured a cadre of one referee who was not fencing — and he was one of the organisers. Between the men’s and women’s foil events, there was £2,000 in prize money and £0 spent on referees.

I refused to referee for free at this event with large cash prizes. It was the most enjoyable day I have spent at a (non-World Cup) tournament since I left Canada in 2006. Fencing. Watching my next opponent. Supporting my clubmates. I had not had a day like it in a long, long time. And I had missed being able to simply enjoy the atmosphere of a fencing tournament.

And I realized something – I don’t enjoy refereeing. Not enough to make it worthwhile.

If I’m waking up at 5 am, getting home at 10 pm, exhausting myself with exercise, spending money on trains, taxis, entry fees, fencing kit and (often) hotels, I want to enjoy that whole experience. And I enjoy it when I’m fencing, and spending time with (and supporting) my clubmates.

I do not enjoy it when every moment between bouts is spent refereeing. And if I’m spending money to attend the tournament — to spend time away from my daughter, to take a break, to have some recreation — I’m damned well going to make the most of it, and try to enjoy the experience.

So the Norfolk Open asked me if I would referee. They would cover expenses, they say. These would be mine:

• Transport: Approximately £26.
• Entry Fee: £17
• Breakfast: £5
• Dinner: £15

That’s £63. But it doesn’t take into account that it ruined my day of fencing, so they owe me another one of those, of approximately the same quality … £126. Which is probably not the amount they have in mind. And that’s assuming I’d “do it for free”.

Which is the second problem with refereeing in Britain. British Fencing policy is that referees are not paid; they are merely reimbursed their expenses. As a referee, you will always be somewhat overworked, but the amazingly small size of the British refereeing corps makes that even more so.

So I have a refereeing policy, which I will adhere to from now on:

I will not referee if I am fencing at a tournament. It is not why I’m there. I accept that some amount of refereeing is unavoidable, if the fencing tournament is to run at all, but I believe that by refereeing for free I am contributing to the problem, rather than the solution.

Hence, I will purposely avoid refereeing as a fencer. I will only referee if hired as a referee.

And in that case, my fees are 1 month of my fencing club fees (currently £90) plus expenses. The idea being that if I referee a tournament every month, it ought to cover my club fees.

What I can guarantee is that I am not paying upwards of £60 on the weekend to work my ass off so other people can enjoy their hobby while I’m not enjoying mine. I can save my money and have more enjoyable days in my garden.

Fancy hat available for sale here.

For a while now — since before Backpacking Dad pointed out to me that I will no longer have time for it last week — I have been pondering what to do about fencing next year.

Clearly, my ideal participation level — practicing three times a week and attending a tournament once a month — is out. Come October, there will simply not be time for it. But I very much enjoy this game, in which you try to tag your opponent with a spring-loaded metal stick, so making time for it is paramount.

Heading into the British National Championships, I was contemplating playing a bigger role on the sidelines — rather than competing and training, I would endeavour to contribute through refereeing and maybe volunteering some of my time with British Fencing.

However, my experience at the Nationals soured me on this idea. In order to contribute to the well-being of British Fencing, it seems that one must put a lot into the relationship and expect to get nothing out of it. But I have no prior relationship with British Fencing to make this unbalanced relationship seem worthwhile — I just do not care. I have tried to list what British Fencing does — or has done — for me.

The results do not look impressive:

1: They provide insurance, as part of the membership. But I do not spend time volunteering for any of the other insurance companies that cover me, so that means little. Also, I have never had cause to make a claim upon the insurance policy.

2: They provide training for referees who referee domestic competitions. I am trying not to laugh, really. Really. If you aren’t laughing yourself, you clearly do not fence domestic British competitions.

3: They provide training for coaches. But not my coach, who is Polish, and not trained through the British system.

4: They organise tournaments, like the National Championships. I am unable to attend these, as a competitor, as I am not a citizen of the UK.

In total, British Fencing does very little for me, and I do not feel the same attachment as I would for the Canadian Fencing Federation or Ontario Fencing Association back home — those organisations played a large role in my development as a fencer, coach and referee. I do not get the same enjoyment helping British Fencing as I do from playing, nor as much as I might from supporting one of the organisations that helped me.

Unless I am to be compensated for my time, I can see little reason to contribute my time to fencing in that manner. This leads my plans away from the sidelines, and back behind the mask.

I will fence next year.

My goals are very small: to attend practice at least once a month, and to compete in three tournaments over the course of the fencing season. Of course, this means I will not actually be joining a fencing club — I will be attending sufficiently rarely that simply paying drop fees will be more economic.

But it will keep me in the sport for the coming year.

And in future years? Who knows — my daughter might turn out to be a fencer, and the impetus to sacrifice my time for the sport might appear.

Image by Alan Chia, available under CC License

As previously mentioned here on the Big Bad Blog, I have recently returned to the fencing fold. While I may be getting as much practice in as possible, the same cannot be said for tournaments.

To me, the fencing season consists of very few tournaments. These are the satellite World Cup events, held in London, Amsterdam and Copenhagen, and the British National team competition. I try to do a warm up tournament before each of these, but I do not really care about my results in domestic tournaments in the UK — they simply do not matter.

The satellite World Cups are wonderful, however. While the winners of the competitions are often on par, ability-wise, with the winners of UK tournaments, the skill level does not bottom out in the same way. This takes away the easy bouts — which I do not really enjoy — making for thoroughly enjoyable competitions, even if my results do not measure up.

This past weekend was the Leon Paul satellite men’s foil event. Of the satellites, this is easily the most difficult of the lot. The reason is that there is a Junior World Cup event held the day before, and many of the athletes stay around for a second day (and a second tournament).

As a result, when I came to my pool, it was full of under-20s, all of whom were much better fencers then myself. I entered with a simple mantra: They’re all better then me. Good fencers — otherwise they would not be here for the junior event the day before — faster, and in better shape. My only advantage is that I have been fencing much, much longer. Remember this, be the wily old man, and I would see what I could do.

The plan worked for a little while — it got me through the first two bouts. Then I was derailed by a good fencer, followed by technical difficulties, followed by myself — I made mental mistakes in my last two pool bouts, and the fencers were simply too good to make such mistakes against.

However, it was enough to get me through into the elimination rounds as a low seed. Luck would have me matched against a clubmate in the first round — one who was having a better day than I was — and my day ended shortly thereafter.

From there I became a cheerleader, spectator and photographer for the remainder of the day.

While it was not technically my first competition since returning, it is the first that is actually part of my short-list. The next will have to be missed, due to work obligations, but I am looking forward to fencing in Copenhagen come March.

It’s nice to be back in the saddle, and to have a ranking again. Even if it is 484th.

A few more photos available over on Flickr.