Cat Tales: “Cy had spoken.”

(This is excerpt #9 from the book currently being written by Greg Eckerle called “Cat Tales: Jasper Sports Stories.” Eckerle can be reached at gregeckerle@twc.com.)

Ironically, two starters on Jasper’s 1957 basketball team, Jerry Birge and John Hoffman, were neighbors and also had fathers who were well-known referees – Cyril Birge and Bob Hoffman, future Indiana Basketball Hall of Famers. Jerry recalled a game at Jasper when John and him were lining up for the opening tip. A referee came up and said, “Hey, Jerry, where is your dad working tonight?” “Oh, he’s down at Evansville.” “Well, tell him I said hi.” “OK.” Then the referee turned and asked Hoffman, “Is your dad here?” “Yeah.” “Tell him I said hello.” An opposing player looked at Jerry and said, “Wait, what the hell is this?”

But having a well-known official as a father resulted in some serious lessons, too. “I really raised hell with an official at Bloomington once when he called something on me,” said Jerry. “I griped and really made a scene out of it. The next morning dad said that referee called him. Dad told me he had taught me better, and said don’t you ever, ever, disrespect an official again, and I never did.” 

Cyril explained his officiating philosophy: “You’d be blowing the whistle all the time if you called all the contact. You have to use a lot of judgement on incidental contact. What makes you an official is using good judgement on what type of contact to let go, on each end of the floor, consistently. Also, sometimes kids don’t want to play ball, they just want to scuffle. Then you have to call it closer.”

As expected, stories involving Cyril were popular at the annual “Legends” gatherings in Huntingburg.

Jerome “Chick” Alles told of people often asking Cyril who had won the game he had worked. Cyril’s dry answer: “We did.”

Dave Lowenstein once heard a fan chide Cyril on not being in front of the players on a fast break, leading them down the floor. Cyril replied, “Oh, they’ll come back.”

A story was told of how Cyril and a fellow referee became good friends officiating many basketball games together. One night, that friend showed up as a fan at a game Cyril was calling in Loogootee. That friend good-naturedly harassed Birge’s officiating so much that Birge had to kick his buddy out of the gym.

He was that rare referee who made friends because of the fair manner in which he called games. Coaches, players and fans came to believe in his judgment. Even if your team lost a game worked by Cyril, you couldn’t get upset with his calls.

Cyril also had an endearing flair about him. Son Jerry shared about a game his dad played for the Jasper Reds baseball team against a tough Louisville squad. Money was on the line. Jasper was ahead by one in the ninth, but Louisville had runners on second and third with two outs. Cyril, catching, caught the final pop-out with some flair, snagging it behind his back. His coaches weren’t amused and let him know it. Those listening to Jerry nodded knowingly when he said Cyril’s reaction was, “Hey, we won – and the crowd loved it.” Listeners figured his explanation was accompanied by one of his wry smiles, and delivered in his ever-charming, disarming way that kept anyone from getting mad at him.

That personality was what made Cyril such a favorite when he made his rounds in later years at various Dubois County taverns. 

Ken Morgan, a Huntingburg player in the 1950s, often met Cyril on some of his stops in Huntingburg. “Whenever there was a debate about an old-time player, like Oscar Robertson, Cy’s opinion settled it,” said Morgan. “Everybody understood. Nothing more needed to be said. Cy had spoken.”

Son Jerry said, “Almost to the day he died (at age 93), dad would make the rounds. He’d leave Jasper about 4:00, go to various county towns on various days. He’d hit two or three taverns, nurse a couple beers, and come home. He never missed it. I once called Rich Helming (of Fleig’s in Ferdinand), one of my favorite people in all the world, and asked, ‘Dad comes over there once a week, doesn’t he?’ Rich said, ‘Oh, yeah.’ I asked, ‘Is he any pain in the ass?’ Rich said, ‘Oh, no, I look forward to it, they all do. I know it’s on Thursdays, and all of a sudden, my bar starts getting crowded, because they all know he’s coming. He’d sit at the bar with them.’ To local people he was a true celebrity. And he was a real ham, he would entertain them and tell all these basketball stories of his. They just really swarmed to him.”

Cyril was a master at quick quips, which served him well when he went to work for Gus Doerner’s sporting goods business in 1965. He called on area schools to sell them sports equipment and clothing. “When I first started, I didn’t know anything about basketball equipment, so I’d say this is a new job for me, I don’t pretend to know everything, but I do know what a jockstrap is, and a pair of socks,” he said with a laugh. “Some guys you couldn’t say that to, but I could talk like that to my buddies.” And Cyril had plenty of acquaintances by then through his years of officiating.

One buddy he called on, Sam Alford, wrote in an email, “My best times with (Cyril) were when he stopped by the school. So much fun arguing with him over prices. His great personality always made it a pleasure to see him.”

When I began collecting items for the Dubois County Museum sports exhibit in 2004, the best advice I received came from Dubois County Historian John Fierst. He said simply, “Go see Cyril Birge.”

Birge always graciously helped me when I made repeated trips to his house to gather artifacts for the museum, and information for this book. I always called to make sure he’d be home. One time he offered, “Come back whenever you want. If I’m not here, just come on in and get what you need.” I never did that, because the fun really was being with Cy.

(In the next “Cat Tales” excerpt, we will share some basketball and beer stories from the years after Prohibition was repealed in 1933.)