It’s time refs whistled in proper tune

IT’S a testament to the legacy of Steve Jobs and the quality engineering at Apple that my MacBook still operates despite a torrent of tears and spilt gin.

The difference between agony and ecstasy is one point. One point away from cracking the top four and relegating Melbourne United to a position more congruent with their geography, or one point away from dwelling in the NBL’s wine cellar.

There is no ecstasy to find here, but there was a tremendous arm wrestle of a game, one of the best in a season of outstanding competition all around Australia.

Unfortunately, there is one glaring issue that the NBL needs to address.

Like my face on Miranda Kerr’s body, this issue takes all the attention away from the tremendous body of work that players and administrators have put into the NBL in the last two years: the referees.

Yes, I am salty after Thursday night’s loss. Salty enough that the Dead Sea would seem only slightly brackish in comparison.

No, we cannot blame the refs in total for the loss, but we can blame them for being complicit in spoiling what was a fantastic special.

Let’s start with the thinskinned despot that called the ridiculous tech foul on Nate Jawai in the first three minutes. That was one of the most baffling things I’ve ever seen outside of an American election result. Contact calls seem to be whistled on the back of some Magic 8-Ball.

I mean, it is simply discombobulating to try to decipher how tacky-tack contact fouls get called one minute and then a blatant mugging gets unpunished minutes later.

It is baffling to everyone with a functioning medulla oblongata that, given the amount of contact, neither Ware nor Goulding fouled Trice on his potentially game-winning breakaway steal with 24 seconds left.

At a minimum, Travis should have been sent to the line for two shots.

Instead, we get no call, even after Ware appears to step out and Melbourne go on to win the game and consolidate their position in the top four.

Every missed shot, every turnover, every bad defensive read and every poor whistle are the difference between first place and last.

The players, the league, the administration, and the commentators have all stepped up their game this year, so it’s a shame that the officiating continues to wallow in the splash pool of inadequacy.

As a human, I appreciate the sacrifices that our refs make, and it’s not an easy job by any stretch of the imagination, but in this, the most competitive season in history, Thursday night’s game wasn’t Robinson Crusoe.

Poor officiating has become the Tito of the NBL’s Jackson 5, holding it back from its true potential. The punters pay to see the guys in shorts and singlets play basketball, not to watch three folks with onenote flutes put on an orchestral performance in the key of mediocrity.