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In a world of whistles, deaf referee is on call | Democrat and Chronicle | democratandchronicle.com
By the time Jim Segala was an upperclassman at Frontier Regional School in South Deerfield, Mass., he was known for more than just his scoring ability on a team that would finish as state runner-up his senior year in 1986.
During his four varsity seasons, the 5-foot-11 guard would rile up opposing fans when he'd go to the free-throw line. Like most players, he wanted to drown out the noise, so Segala would reach up to his right ear before shooting and turn off his hearing aid.
Segala is deaf.
"Fans picked up on that," recalls his mother, Maureen. "They'd point and say, 'Look at what he's doing!'"
When Segala was done shooting, he'd turn the device back on — a simple switch to go from what he calls the "hearing world" to the "deaf world." But that's the way it has always been for him, a balancing act that continues today in nearly every aspect of his life.
The 43-year-old Webster resident officiates local high school boys and girls basketball, baseball and softball games and loves his job as an assistant football coach — he handles the quarterbacks and special teams — for Webster Schroeder. He'd love to try to be a full-time men's college basketball referee. The NCAA doesn't currently have any who are hearing impaired, according to NCAA men's officials coordinator John Adams.
But that would mean Segala, who is the commissioner of Deaf Basketball Officials — a national organization that tries to promote refereeing as an option for the hearing impaired — would have to give up football in the fall, and he doesn't want to do that.
"Coaching," he says, "is my passion."
'Can Jimmy hear us?'
When he talks, Segala sounds like most deaf people. There is a certain tone to their voice. But Segala has used speech his whole life. He didn't learn sign language until he got to Gallaudet University, an all-deaf college in Washington, D.C., where he was a star quarterback and baseball catcher. Segala went on to have professional tryouts with the Washington Redskins and San Francisco Giants. With his hearing aid on, Segala says his hearing capacity is 85 percent. Without it, he estimates he has only about 15 percent.
"He has never used that as a crutch, never said, 'I can't do that,'" Maureen Segala says.
Segala could hear as a toddler. It wasn't until age 4 that Maureen and her husband, Michael, realized their son had lost his hearing. The family was hosting exchange students from Sweden and Segala was outside playing with everyone.
"I heard them outside calling him and he wasn't responding," Maureen remembers about that summer day. "I heard one of them say, 'Can Jimmy hear us?'"
The family ran its own tests: clapping, stomping and talking with his back turned. A hearing specialist found Segala had an 85-decibel loss in both ears.
He attended the Clarke School for the Deaf until he was 12, but since Jimmy talked so much at home with his parents and older brothers, Michael Jr. and Bruce, who are seven and three years older, respectively, and their friends, they decided to move him to Frontier Regional High with kids who could hear.
"They never treated me like a different person," Segala says of his family. "Michael and Bruce always taught me."
He tagged along with them, like any other little brother would, and he loved playing sports. In the classroom, Segala's teachers wore a phonic ear, which amplified their voice while reducing background noise to his hearing aid, and he had a designated "note taker," at times to help him.
Athletically, he earned 14 varsity letters overall and quarterbacked the football team that included future NFL star, Mark Chmura, a three-time Pro Bowl tight end with the Green Bay Packers. "I made him what he was," Segala jokes.
They still keep in touch.
His 1,525 points in four basketball seasons were a school record and Frontier retired his jersey.
Even though Segala was going to a deaf college, Gallaudet wasn't easy because he didn't sign.
"It was frustrating," he says. "I almost left."
But he learned to sign. Still, his parents were concerned. They didn't want Segala to stop using speech even though he was surrounded by many people who never spoke.
"We worked for 18 years on his speech," Maureen says. "So I said, 'Jimmy, if we see you go down there and your speech is going down the tubes, we'll pull you as fast as can be.'"
That didn't happen. Segala often was the spokesman among his friends and teammates. He hoped to play pro sports. "That's his broken dream," Maureen says.
But her son made new ones.
New passion
Segala's first coaching job was as Gallaudet's assistant quarterbacks coach in 1990. He then coached QBs and linebackers at a deaf high school in D.C. before going home to Massachusetts. He spent 1998-2003 at Ware High School, serving as a varsity assistant and junior-varsity head coach.
He started refereeing in 2002, which was around the same time he started looking for a new coaching challenge. By then he and his wife, Karen, a native of Gates, were married five years. She's deaf and works at Advantage Federal Credit Union.
They have two sons, Brett, who is now 13, and Brees, who is 10. They both can hear and yes, they're both named after famous QBs (Brett Favre and Drew Brees).
Segala sent resumes to several schools and Anthony Bianchi, who had built a three-time state champion as coach at Webster and needed a QBs coach, contacted him for an interview.
"I knew he was deaf because I saw Gallaudet, but I was impressed with some of his (QB) stats," says Bianchi, now Aquinas' athletic director.
Bianchi was clear in the interview: This wouldn't be a sympathy hire.
"This isn't about helping you. It's about helping us," Bianchi says.
Segala didn't flinch. Both men have straightforward personalities and they clicked. Bianchi offered the job over dinner at an Italian restaurant.
"He has a great personality — outgoing. He fit right in with our coaching staff," Bianchi says.
Segala left in 2005 with Bianchi for the University of Rochester, where he met current Schroeder coach Kali Watkins, then returned a year later to Schroeder when Bianchi went to Aquinas.
"He's a student of the game, very detail-oriented," says Schroeder assistant and former head coach Chris Urban. "He loves watching film."
Segala is demanding and intense about footwork and throwing mechanics, but his excitement is infectious.
Junior QB Parrish McKnight remembers a game three years ago that Schroeder won on a punt return. While reviewing the game video a few days later, the coaching staff used a spot shadow on the sidelines during that play.
"(Segala) was sprinting down the sideline just like the returner," McKnight says with a laugh.
Getting his stripes
Segala isn't the only hearing-impaired local basketball referee. Marsha Wetzel, 48, has worked local college and high school games for more than 15 years. An instructor at Rochester Institute of Technology's National Technical Institute for the Deaf, she made history in 2002.
She was the first deaf female referee in D-I women's basketball, working an Atlantic 10 game at St. Bonaventure.
The original deaf trailblazer for basketball was Guy Kirk, 64, who worked men's games for 17 years.
"He's got a good feel for the game," Penfield girls basketball coach Mark Vogt says of Segala. "I don't know if he's a great official or because of his hearing impairment he's more attuned to the things around him, but you know what you're going to get with him."
Being called consistent is a high compliment.
Segala officiates about 60 games each winter, working a few nights per week. With his hearing aid, he hears a lot more of what's said than some coaches or fans realize.
"(Coaches) respect me," he says. "If anyone ever did (say anything crass), I'd tell them to back off," he says. "What does being deaf have to do with anything?"
Referees communicate with each other and to the official scorers using hand signals, so being able to hear or speak isn't essential. When Segala has ever needed help, he asks his officiating partner.
He says there only about 30 certified deaf officials, but hopes to change that. Segala travels extensively to clinics to improve or officiate for national tournaments involving deaf teams. But he wants more people in the deaf community to consider officiating.
"Don't let anyone tell you can't do something," he says. "Don't let anything stop you from getting your dream."
By the time Jim Segala was an upperclassman at Frontier Regional School in South Deerfield, Mass., he was known for more than just his scoring ability on a team that would finish as state runner-up his senior year in 1986.
During his four varsity seasons, the 5-foot-11 guard would rile up opposing fans when he'd go to the free-throw line. Like most players, he wanted to drown out the noise, so Segala would reach up to his right ear before shooting and turn off his hearing aid.
Segala is deaf.
"Fans picked up on that," recalls his mother, Maureen. "They'd point and say, 'Look at what he's doing!'"
When Segala was done shooting, he'd turn the device back on — a simple switch to go from what he calls the "hearing world" to the "deaf world." But that's the way it has always been for him, a balancing act that continues today in nearly every aspect of his life.
The 43-year-old Webster resident officiates local high school boys and girls basketball, baseball and softball games and loves his job as an assistant football coach — he handles the quarterbacks and special teams — for Webster Schroeder. He'd love to try to be a full-time men's college basketball referee. The NCAA doesn't currently have any who are hearing impaired, according to NCAA men's officials coordinator John Adams.
But that would mean Segala, who is the commissioner of Deaf Basketball Officials — a national organization that tries to promote refereeing as an option for the hearing impaired — would have to give up football in the fall, and he doesn't want to do that.
"Coaching," he says, "is my passion."
'Can Jimmy hear us?'
When he talks, Segala sounds like most deaf people. There is a certain tone to their voice. But Segala has used speech his whole life. He didn't learn sign language until he got to Gallaudet University, an all-deaf college in Washington, D.C., where he was a star quarterback and baseball catcher. Segala went on to have professional tryouts with the Washington Redskins and San Francisco Giants. With his hearing aid on, Segala says his hearing capacity is 85 percent. Without it, he estimates he has only about 15 percent.
"He has never used that as a crutch, never said, 'I can't do that,'" Maureen Segala says.
Segala could hear as a toddler. It wasn't until age 4 that Maureen and her husband, Michael, realized their son had lost his hearing. The family was hosting exchange students from Sweden and Segala was outside playing with everyone.
"I heard them outside calling him and he wasn't responding," Maureen remembers about that summer day. "I heard one of them say, 'Can Jimmy hear us?'"
The family ran its own tests: clapping, stomping and talking with his back turned. A hearing specialist found Segala had an 85-decibel loss in both ears.
He attended the Clarke School for the Deaf until he was 12, but since Jimmy talked so much at home with his parents and older brothers, Michael Jr. and Bruce, who are seven and three years older, respectively, and their friends, they decided to move him to Frontier Regional High with kids who could hear.
"They never treated me like a different person," Segala says of his family. "Michael and Bruce always taught me."
He tagged along with them, like any other little brother would, and he loved playing sports. In the classroom, Segala's teachers wore a phonic ear, which amplified their voice while reducing background noise to his hearing aid, and he had a designated "note taker," at times to help him.
Athletically, he earned 14 varsity letters overall and quarterbacked the football team that included future NFL star, Mark Chmura, a three-time Pro Bowl tight end with the Green Bay Packers. "I made him what he was," Segala jokes.
They still keep in touch.
His 1,525 points in four basketball seasons were a school record and Frontier retired his jersey.
Even though Segala was going to a deaf college, Gallaudet wasn't easy because he didn't sign.
"It was frustrating," he says. "I almost left."
But he learned to sign. Still, his parents were concerned. They didn't want Segala to stop using speech even though he was surrounded by many people who never spoke.
"We worked for 18 years on his speech," Maureen says. "So I said, 'Jimmy, if we see you go down there and your speech is going down the tubes, we'll pull you as fast as can be.'"
That didn't happen. Segala often was the spokesman among his friends and teammates. He hoped to play pro sports. "That's his broken dream," Maureen says.
But her son made new ones.
New passion
Segala's first coaching job was as Gallaudet's assistant quarterbacks coach in 1990. He then coached QBs and linebackers at a deaf high school in D.C. before going home to Massachusetts. He spent 1998-2003 at Ware High School, serving as a varsity assistant and junior-varsity head coach.
He started refereeing in 2002, which was around the same time he started looking for a new coaching challenge. By then he and his wife, Karen, a native of Gates, were married five years. She's deaf and works at Advantage Federal Credit Union.
They have two sons, Brett, who is now 13, and Brees, who is 10. They both can hear and yes, they're both named after famous QBs (Brett Favre and Drew Brees).
Segala sent resumes to several schools and Anthony Bianchi, who had built a three-time state champion as coach at Webster and needed a QBs coach, contacted him for an interview.
"I knew he was deaf because I saw Gallaudet, but I was impressed with some of his (QB) stats," says Bianchi, now Aquinas' athletic director.
Bianchi was clear in the interview: This wouldn't be a sympathy hire.
"This isn't about helping you. It's about helping us," Bianchi says.
Segala didn't flinch. Both men have straightforward personalities and they clicked. Bianchi offered the job over dinner at an Italian restaurant.
"He has a great personality — outgoing. He fit right in with our coaching staff," Bianchi says.
Segala left in 2005 with Bianchi for the University of Rochester, where he met current Schroeder coach Kali Watkins, then returned a year later to Schroeder when Bianchi went to Aquinas.
"He's a student of the game, very detail-oriented," says Schroeder assistant and former head coach Chris Urban. "He loves watching film."
Segala is demanding and intense about footwork and throwing mechanics, but his excitement is infectious.
Junior QB Parrish McKnight remembers a game three years ago that Schroeder won on a punt return. While reviewing the game video a few days later, the coaching staff used a spot shadow on the sidelines during that play.
"(Segala) was sprinting down the sideline just like the returner," McKnight says with a laugh.
Getting his stripes
Segala isn't the only hearing-impaired local basketball referee. Marsha Wetzel, 48, has worked local college and high school games for more than 15 years. An instructor at Rochester Institute of Technology's National Technical Institute for the Deaf, she made history in 2002.
She was the first deaf female referee in D-I women's basketball, working an Atlantic 10 game at St. Bonaventure.
The original deaf trailblazer for basketball was Guy Kirk, 64, who worked men's games for 17 years.
"He's got a good feel for the game," Penfield girls basketball coach Mark Vogt says of Segala. "I don't know if he's a great official or because of his hearing impairment he's more attuned to the things around him, but you know what you're going to get with him."
Being called consistent is a high compliment.
Segala officiates about 60 games each winter, working a few nights per week. With his hearing aid, he hears a lot more of what's said than some coaches or fans realize.
"(Coaches) respect me," he says. "If anyone ever did (say anything crass), I'd tell them to back off," he says. "What does being deaf have to do with anything?"
Referees communicate with each other and to the official scorers using hand signals, so being able to hear or speak isn't essential. When Segala has ever needed help, he asks his officiating partner.
He says there only about 30 certified deaf officials, but hopes to change that. Segala travels extensively to clinics to improve or officiate for national tournaments involving deaf teams. But he wants more people in the deaf community to consider officiating.
"Don't let anyone tell you can't do something," he says. "Don't let anything stop you from getting your dream."
yea it was in 1989!