作為一名高中籃球教練，我竭盡全力體幫我的學(xué)生在比賽中取得勝利。我全力支持他們在比賽中取勝，他們也刻苦訓(xùn)練。
然而，在一場我所裁判的比賽之后發(fā)生了一件富有戲劇性的偶然事件。這件事改變了我對勝敗的看法。那是一次藍(lán)球冠軍聯(lián)賽，當(dāng)時，我在紐約州的新羅謝爾市給新羅謝爾和揚(yáng)克斯兩個隊之間的比賽作裁判。新羅謝爾隊的教練是丹·奧布賴恩，而揚(yáng)克斯隊的教練是萊斯·貝克。體育館內(nèi)座無虛席，呼聲震天。比賽順利進(jìn)行，兩隊比分接近，揚(yáng)克斯隊僅以一分的優(yōu)勢領(lǐng)先。我看了一下時鐘，距離比賽結(jié)束僅剩三十秒。
揚(yáng)克斯隊控球在手，傳球、投籃，但是沒投中。新羅謝爾隊重新控球，將球向場地的另一個方向傳球，然后投籃。觀眾急切地盯著球，球沿著籃球筐邊急速旋轉(zhuǎn)，最終又落了下來。球迷們尖聲喊叫。
主隊新羅謝爾隊重新把球奪過來，把球撥進(jìn)籃筐，似乎已經(jīng)贏得了比賽的勝利。人群的呼喊聲震耳欲聾。我看了一下時鐘，已經(jīng)過了比賽結(jié)束時間。由于聲音太大，我沒有聽到終場信號聲。我向另外一名工作人員核對時間，但是他說不清楚。
我仍然在混亂中求助，我走近計時員——一個大約17歲的年輕人。他告訴我：“科維諾先生，當(dāng)球滾出籃筐時，終場信號發(fā)出了，在最后球又被撥進(jìn)籃筐之前。”
“丹，在最后那個球被撥進(jìn)籃筐之前，時間已經(jīng)到了。”我無可奈何地告訴奧布賴恩教練，“揚(yáng)克斯隊贏了。”
他臉色陰沉了下來。那個年輕的計時員走上前，說：“爸爸，對不起。在最后一個球投中之前時間就已經(jīng)到了。”突然間，奧布賴恩教練的臉色就像太陽撥開了烏云，轉(zhuǎn)晴了，他說：“沒關(guān)系，喬。你做了你應(yīng)該做的，我為你感到驕傲。”
他把臉轉(zhuǎn)向我，說："埃爾，我介紹一下我的兒子，喬。"
奧布賴恩教練把胳膊搭在兒子的肩膀上，兩個人一起離開了球場。
As a high school coach, I did all I could to help my boys win their games. I rooted as hard for victory as they did.
A dramatic incident, however, following a game in which I officiated as a referee, changed my perspective on victories and defeats. I was refereeing a league championship basketball game in New Rochelle, New York, between New Rochelle and Yonkers High. New Rochelle was coached by Dan O'Brien, Yonkers by Les Beck. The gym was crowded to capacity, and the volume of noise made it impossible to hear. The game was well played and closely contested. Yonkers was leading by one point as I glanced at the clock and discovered there were but 30 seconds left to play.
Yonkers, in possession of the ball, passed off — shot — missed. New Rochelle recovered — pushed the ball up court — shot. The ball rolled tantalizingly around the rim and off. The fans shrieked.
New Rochelle, the home team, recovered the ball, and tapped it in for what looked like victory. The tumult was deafening. I glanced at the clock and saw that the game was over. I hadn't heard the final buzzer because of the noise. I checked with the other official, but he could not help me. Still seeking help in this bedlam, I approached the timekeeper, a young man of 17 or so. He said, "Mr. Covino, the buzzer went off as the ball rolled off the rim, before the final tap-in was made."
I was in the unenviable position of having to tell Coach O'Brien the sad news. "Dan," I said, "time ran out before the final basket was tapped in. Yonkers won the game."
His face clouded over. The young timekeeper came up. He said, "I'm sorry, Dad. The time ran out before the final basket."
Suddenly, like the sun coming out from behind a cloud, Coach O'Brien's face lit up. He said, "That's okay, Joe. You did what you had to do. I'm proud of you."
Turning to me, he said, "Al, I want you to meet my son, Joe." The two of them then walked off the court together, the coach's arm around his son's shoulder.
