Some events in life, you can remember the exact spot on the floor when you heard the news. On April 2, 1984, I remembered the weather, the smell of spring, and standing in front of a Brooklyn, NY brownstone. I remember the words, “Did you hear Marvin Gaye is dead.” For me, this man was music. I could listen to him for hours. Michael Jackson and Whitney Houston had the same effect on me. There are some family members that you can’t recall their birthdays, but for some celebrities, that emotional attachment is fixed firmly in the crevices of my brain.
John, Keri, and Alyssa Altobelli. Sarah and Payton Chester. Christina Mauser. Ara Zobayan. Kobe and Gianna Bryant. I remember exactly where I was when they passed away. “Yo, listen to this,” was said just before I heard the terrible news.
I was refereeing a game at Towson University. It was a cold day by my standards. On that day, I had a referee’s worst nightmare. We had a correctable error for awarding an unmerited free-throw. The team wasn’t in the penalty, and the crew awarded free throws before we were in the bonus. I could blame many folks for the mistake, my partners, the table personal, the teams, or the announcer, but the error was mine to correct. I haven’t had an unfixable error since my second or third season of refereeing basketball. I was angry and beat myself up over the mistake before entering the locker room at half time. As we approached the locker room, my partner overheard some murmurs in the audience. My partner looked at his phone, and he had at least thirty missed messages. The conversation in the stands confirmed his suspicions. Without looking up from his phone, my partner said, “Yo, listen to this. Kobe Bryant died in a helicopter crash.” Upon returning to the court, I asked the table broadcaster, “Is it true?” With a sour face, he responded, “Yes.”
I remember being in a fog. The game continued without any other issues. The team affected by the correctable error mistake lost by a large margin, so the error had no bearing on the game’s outcome, but it left a massive hole to my professional standards. Through it all, I had to take a pause. Beautiful people who were deeply loved by family perished unexpectedly in a helicopter crash.
When the game ended, I contacted my supervisor and informed her of the correctable error. I then contacted my wife, and we talked a good twenty to thirty minutes in the university parking lot before I left. We reflected on the tragedy, and I can’t remember if I ever mention the mistake in my game. “I love you.” She replied, “I love you, too. Be careful driving”. Asha, my oldest, texted me to see where I was. Simone, my youngest daughter, connected on the phone and let me know she felt sad about the accident.
I often wondered why that moment weighed heavy on my heart. In my opinion, Kobe Bryant is easily all-time top ten players in the NBA, but I was never a major fan because of basketball. His relationship with his daughter, his contribution to women in sports and the arts stuck with me. It was also the nine souls who were on the flight. The families affected.
I remember looking at the game later in the day. I watched the correctable error when it happened and dissected my thought process through my lapse of concentration. I also looked at my performance after halftime. I believe, had I not heard of the tragedy, I would have been self-involved in my mistake. That day I was prepared. I was focused, an error happened, and I will do better. I finished the game report for my supervisor. I hit send and moved on.
That was a day of reflection. That day made me think about all the people I forgot to tell that I love them and appreciate them in my life. At this moment, the mistake in my game seemed less critical. It made me keep this whole basketball life in perspective.
This past year deserves grace. With all of the deaths that we encountered, all of the financial hardships, and personal stress, we should hold onto grace for others and, most importantly ourselves. I am thankful for my yesterday, blessed for today, and joyful for my tomorrow.
By Kevin Sparrock
(Article Originally Published in the IrREFutable Magazine, Issue #1 January 2021)
