Our Sporting Volunteers; People of Honour
Years ago, the members of the Auckland Rugby Referees Association gathered for a combined social evening with the Auckland Rugby League Referees Association.
Our guest speaker was former Prime Minister David Lange, who was then Vice-President of the New Zealand Rugby League. I cannot recall every word he used that evening, but one phrase has stayed with me ever since.
He described referees as people of honour.
Lange spoke about the honourable role referees perform—not only within sport, but also within society. He was not talking about status, recognition or prestige. He was referring to something much deeper: the internal value system that guides how a person behaves, particularly when nobody is watching and when doing the right thing is difficult.
People of honour possess qualities such as integrity, honesty, fairness and a strong sense of duty. Their reputation is built through the consistent expression of those values.
That message immediately connected with me.
Refereeing is an unusual pastime. We give up evenings, weekends and time with our families to help other people participate in the sports they love. We train, study laws, attend meetings and travel considerable distances, often without recognition and sometimes without thanks.
Then we step into an environment in which every decision is visible and open to judgment.
Players make mistakes. Coaches make mistakes. Spectators misunderstand what they see. Referees make mistakes too. The difference is that the referee’s mistake is often the one that attracts the loudest and most immediate reaction. At times, that reaction becomes personal. Match officials can face criticism, ridicule, intimidation and abuse simply for carrying out their role. Yet, week after week, they return.
Why? Because somewhere beneath the uniform, the whistle and the appointment is a strong sense of duty. The game needs someone prepared to accept responsibility for protecting its laws, its participants and its spirit.
That is what I believe David Lange was acknowledging. The honour of refereeing does not come from always being right. No referee can achieve that. It comes from the commitment to act honestly and fairly, to prepare properly, to make decisions without fear or favour and to accept responsibility when we get something wrong.
It means having the courage to make an unpopular decision because it is the right decision.
It means treating every participant with respect, even when that respect is not immediately returned. It means being accountable without allowing criticism to destroy our confidence or our enjoyment of the game. It also means understanding that the authority entrusted to us is never ours to use carelessly. The whistle gives a referee power, but honour determines how that power is exercised.
Lange’s message extended well beyond referees. It spoke to the entire volunteer class upon which our sports depend. Every weekend, thousands of people mark fields, wash uniforms, manage teams, coach children, serve on committees, organise draws, provide first aid, sell food and clean changing rooms after everyone else has gone home. Many perform roles that are largely invisible until someone fails to do them.
These people are not usually motivated by money or public recognition. They contribute because they care about their sport, their clubs and their communities. They understand that if they do not step forward, something valuable may be lost.
That, too, is honourable.
Sport does more than create competition. It brings people together across generations, backgrounds and beliefs. It gives young people a place to belong, teaches cooperation and resilience, and creates relationships that can last a lifetime.
But none of this happens by accident. It happens because volunteers and administrators accept responsibility for creating the environment in which sport can flourish. This is why abuse directed at match officials and volunteers should concern us all. It is not simply an unpleasant part of the game that people should learn to tolerate. It attacks the very people whose commitment makes the game possible.
When a referee walks away because the abuse has become too much, sport loses more than an official. It loses experience, knowledge, service and a person who was willing to carry responsibility on behalf of others.
When a volunteer decides that the criticism is no longer worth the effort, the same thing happens. Calling these people honourable should not romanticise the challenges they face or suggest that enduring mistreatment is part of their duty. People of honour still deserve to be protected, supported and respected.
Perhaps the greater challenge is for everyone involved in sport to consider what honour asks of them. For players, it means competing fiercely while respecting the officials and the opposition. For coaches, it means modelling the behaviour they expect from their athletes and supporters. For administrators, it means creating environments in which safety, fairness and respect are actively defended. For spectators, it means remembering that passion does not excuse abuse.
For match officials, it means continuing to pursue integrity, fairness, honesty and responsibility—even under pressure.
David Lange’s words stayed with me because they elevated something many of us considered simply a weekend pastime. He reminded us that our contribution had meaning. By accepting the responsibility to serve the game, we were helping to hold together something much bigger than the match in front of us.
Years later, I still think he was right. Referees, administrators and volunteers are custodians of their sports. They give their time, accept responsibility and serve something beyond themselves. They will not always get everything right, nor will their work always be recognised.But when they act with integrity, fairness, honesty and a genuine sense of duty, they represent the very best of sport.
They are people of honour.
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