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    At Wimbledon, Is It Time for Hawk-Eye Live to Replace the Line Judges?

    Line judges made incorrect calls in the first week that changed the trajectory of matches for Andy Murray, Bianca Andreescu and Venus Williams, among others. Is it time to give computers the job?Andy Murray was a victim.Bianca Andreescu was too.Jiri Lehecka had to play a fifth set and essentially win his third-round match twice.Hawk-Eye Live, an electronic line calling system, could have saved the players their set, even their match, but Wimbledon doesn’t use it to its full extent, preferring a more traditional approach. The rest of the year on the professional tours, many tournaments rely exclusively on the technology, allowing players to know with near certainty whether their ball lands in or out because the computer always makes the call.But when players come to the All England Club for what is widely regarded as the most important tournament of the year, their fates are largely determined by line judges relying on their eyesight. Even more frustrating, because Wimbledon and its television partners have access to the technology, which players can use to challenge a limited number of calls each match, everyone watching the broadcast sees in real time if a ball is in or out. The people for whom the information is most important — the players and the chair umpire, who oversees the match — must rely on the line judge.When the human eye is judging serves traveling around 120 m.p.h. and forehand rallies faster than 80 m.p.h., errors are bound to happen.“When mistakes are getting made in important moments, then obviously as a player you don’t want that,” said Murray, who could have won his second-round match against Stefanos Tsitsipas in the fourth set, if computers had been making the line calls. Murray’s backhand return was called out, even though replays showed the ball was in. He ended up losing in five sets.No tennis tournament clings to its traditions the way Wimbledon does. Grass court tennis. Matches on Centre Court beginning later than everywhere else, and after those in the Royal Box have had their lunch. No lights for outdoor tennis. A queue with an hourslong wait for last-minute tickets.Those traditions do not have an effect on the outcome of matches from one point to the next. But keeping line judges on the court, after technology has proved to be more reliable, has been affecting — perhaps even turning — key matches seemingly every other day.To understand why that is happening, it’s important to understand how tennis has ended up with different rules for judging across its tournaments.Before the early 2000s, tennis — like baseball, basketball, hockey and other sports — relied on human officials to make calls, many of which were wrong, according to John McEnroe (and pretty much every other tennis player). McEnroe’s most infamous meltdown happened at Wimbledon in 1981, prompted by an incorrect line call.“I would have loved to have had Hawk-Eye,” said Mats Wilander, the seven-time Grand Slam singles champion and a star in the 1980s.But then tennis began experimenting with the Hawk-Eye Live judging system. Cameras capture the bounce of every ball from multiple angles and computers analyze the images to depict the ball’s trajectory and impact points with only a microscopic margin for error. Line judges remained as a backup, but players received three opportunities each set to challenge a line call, and an extra challenge when a set went to a tiebreaker.That forced players to try to figure out when to risk using a challenge they might need on a more crucial point later in the set.“It’s too much,” Wilander said. “I can’t imagine making that calculation, standing there, thinking about whether a shot felt good, how many challenges I have left, how late is it in the set.”Even Roger Federer, who was good at nearly every aspect of tennis, was famously terrible at making successful challenges.Hawk-Eye Live cameras along the outer courts at the U.S. Open in 2020.Jason Szenes/EPA, via ShutterstockBefore long, tennis officials began considering a fully electronic line calling system. When the Covid-19 pandemic hit, tournaments were looking for ways to limit the number of people on the tennis court.Craig Tiley, the chief executive of Tennis Australia, said adopting electronic calling in 2021 was also a part of the Australian Open’s “culture of innovation.” Players liked it. So did fans, Tiley said, because matches moved more quickly.Last year, the U.S. Open switched to fully electronic line calling. There is an ongoing debate about whether the raised lines on clay courts would prevent the technology from providing the same precision as on grass and hardcourts. At the French Open and other clay court tournaments, the ball leaves a mark that umpires often inspect.In 2022, the men’s ATP Tour featured 21 tournaments with fully electronic line calling, including stops in Indian Wells, Calif.; Miami Gardens, Fla.; Canada; and Washington, D.C. All of those sites have women’s WTA tournaments as well. Every ATP tournament will use it beginning in 2025.“The question is not whether it’s 100 percent right but whether it is better than a human, and it is definitely better than a human,” said Mark Ein, who owns the Citi Open in Washington, D.C.A spokesman for the All England Club said Sunday that Wimbledon has no plans to remove its line judges.“After the tournament we look at everything we do, but at this moment, we have no plans to change the system,” Dominic Foster said.Line judges at Wimbledon are responsible for ruling the ball in or out.Julian Finney/Getty ImagesOn Saturday, Andreescu became a casualty of human error. The 2019 U.S. Open champion from Canada, Andreescu has been going deeper into Grand Slam tournaments after years of injuries.With the finish of her match against Ons Jabeur of Tunisia in sight, Andreescu resisted asking for electronic intervention on a crucial shot the line judge had called out. From across the net Jabeur, who had been close to the ball as it landed, advised Andreescu not to waste one of her three challenges for the set, saying the ball was indeed out. The match continued, though not before television viewers saw the computerized replay that showed the ball landing on the line.“I trust Ons,” Andreescu said after Jabeur came back to beat her in three sets, 3-6, 6-3, 6-4.Andreescu explained that she was thinking of her previous match, a three-set marathon decided by a final-set tiebreaker, during which she said she “wasted” several challenges.Against Jabeur, she thought, “I’m going to save it, just in case.”Bad idea. Jabeur won that game, and the set, and then the match.Over on Court No. 12, the challenge system was causing another kind of confusion. Lehecka had match point against Tommy Paul when he raised his hand to challenge a call after returning a shot from Paul that had landed on the line. His request for a challenge came just as Paul hit the next shot into the net.The point was replayed. Paul won it, and then the set moments later, forcing a deciding set. Lehecka won, but had to run around for another half-hour. Venus Williams lost match point in her first-round match on another complicated sequence involving a challenge.Leylah Fernandez, a two-time Grand Slam finalist from Canada, said she likes the tradition of line judges at Wimbledon as the world cedes more to technology.Then again, she added, if “it did cost me a match, it would have been probably a different answer.”Andy Murray learned after his loss to Stefanos Tsitsipas that his shot, called out by a line judge, was in and could have changed the outcome of the match.Sebastien Bozon/Agence France-Presse — Getty ImagesThat is where Murray, the two-time Wimbledon champion, found himself after his loss Friday afternoon. By the time he arrived at his news conference, he had learned that his slow and sharply angled backhand return of serve that landed just a few yards from the umpire had nicked the line.The point would have given him two chances to break Tsitsipas’s serve and serve out the match. When he was told the shot was in, his eyes opened with a startle, then fell toward the floor.Murray now knew what everyone else had seen.The ball had landed under the nose of the umpire, who confirmed the call, Murray said. He could not imagine how anyone could have missed it. He actually likes having the line judges, he added. Perhaps it was his fault for not using a challenge.“Ultimately,” he said, “the umpire made a poor call that’s right in front of her.” More

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    Who Referees the NBA Referees? On TV, Steve Javie Does.

    SECAUCUS, N.J. — “They think they know refereeing,” Steve Javie muttered to no one in particular, wearing a wry smile. “It’s even hard in slow motion.”The “they” could be anyone, from enraged fans to confused television broadcasters — and, sometimes, even Javie, who was an N.B.A. official for 25 years. He was sitting in a corner of a darkened control room in the league’s replay center, flanked by three monitors showing what seemed to be every conceivable angle of Game 7 of the Eastern Conference semifinals between the Boston Celtics and the Milwaukee Bucks. A large flat-screen monitor loomed above, and a key light was stationed over his shoulder.The space had the distinct air of the bridge of the starship Enterprise, except with only a couple of staffers and Javie aboard. Since the 2012 N.B.A. finals, it has been Javie’s job to help viewers on ESPN and ABC broadcasts understand the rationale behind officiating decisions and to explain whether he agrees. He called the control room, from which he shares his views, the “biggest sports bar without a bar.”Steve Javie watches Game 7 of the Eastern Conference semifinals between the Milwaukee Bucks and the Boston Celtics.Brian Fraser for The New York Times“Block/charge is always tough,” Javie, 67, said into his microphone following a charge call on Boston’s Jayson Tatum, connecting him with ESPN’s broadcast team of Mike Breen, the play-by-play announcer, and the analysts Jeff Van Gundy and Mark Jackson.Javie had the steady voice of a no-nonsense-but-congenial army general.He grew up and lives outside Philadelphia. His father, Stan Javie, was an N.F.L. official, and his godfather, John Stevens, was an umpire in Major League Baseball. Javie was chosen to officiate 15 N.B.A. finals, an assignment typically reserved for referees with the highest grades for accuracy during the regular season and playoffs. He worked in the N.B.A. until 2011, when knee issues forced his retirement. Since then, he has provided on-air officiating insights for ESPN and ABC. When he started, it was still seen as an unusual innovation for sports broadcasts. A friend of Javie’s, the former N.F.L. referee Mike Pereira, had begun the practice for network broadcasts by doing N.F.L. games the year before and had received positive reviews.“I never dreamed of something like this,” Javie said, crediting Pereira for opening the door for him. Joe Borgia, who retired from the N.B.A.’s referee operations department in 2020, also does commentary for Turner Sports.In the first half of Javie’s career, he was known to have a hot temper. Javie described his style early in his career as “aggressive.” He ejected Hoops, the Washington Bullets mascot, in 1991 for, from his perspective, inciting the crowd. The game included several other ejections and Hoops was the last to go after the mascot raised its arms and invited the crowd to jeer the referees.“He had a reputation when he first came into the league of being a young official who gave out a lot of technicals,” Breen said. “And normally when officials first start, they work their way in before they start handing out technicals left and right. But it just shows you how confident and fearless he was when he started.”Javie with Sacramento’s Vlade Divac during Game 3 of the 2002 Western Conference finals between the Kings and the Los Angeles Lakers.Jed Jacobsohn/Getty ImagesAbout a decade or so into his career, Javie mellowed, at least from his telling. One formative interaction he recalled was with the former guard Brian Shaw, who was playing for the Orlando Magic in the mid-1990s. Javie had assessed several technicals to players and was in an — ahem — foul mood.“Brian Shaw is walking by me and I just hit another guy with a technical foul,” Javie said. “And I go, ‘You know what, it must be a full moon tonight.’ He looked at me. He goes, ‘Yeah, you’re the werewolf.’ Well, I had to give him a technical foul, too, but it was a good line.”Monty McCutchen, the senior vice president of referee training for the N.B.A. and a former longtime colleague of Javie’s, disputed the perception that Javie had a temper. The mark of a temper is losing control of one’s emotions, he said.“I never saw Steve out of control,” McCutchen said.Javie’s ESPN career began with some “SportsCenter” hits. He said he didn’t have any media training. At first, he was nervous about commenting on his former co-workers.“These are his friends and his colleagues that he worked with for years, that now maybe he had to second-guess a call or two,” Breen said. “That’s a difficult thing for a guy to do.”For Javie, professional empathy for officials is a must for a former referee on television, since crowds, coaches and players rarely provide any.Workstations in N.B.A.s replay center in Secaucus, N.J. Officials here help decide calls when teams or on-site officials ask for reviews.Brian Fraser for The New York Times“They think they can do it: ‘Look how they missed that one. How do you mess up?’” Javie said. “I told my producer: I’m always going to be an official, and I’ll speak as an official. I know what it’s like to have a big game. I know what it’s like to be in bad position. I know what it’s like to blow calls at the end of the game. You can’t sleep at night.”Now, Javie said: “I feel a little more comfortable being able to say why I disagree. And I think that’s what ESPN wants. They want my opinion.”Each year, Javie does about 40 games, including playoffs and the N.B.A. finals. Throughout the Bucks’ game with the Celtics, Javie scribbled notes on a lined notepad in front of him. They’re reminders about the rules. Notes like “no clear path” and “criteria for flagrant foul” in barely intelligible handwriting fill the pages. Other times, Javie would use a machine in front of him to scroll the game back and forth to watch replays.And then there were the moments when Javie would be needed. He’d hear a voice call out, “They might go to Javie here” — and he would immediately sit up straight, swivel in his chair to face the light behind him and look directly into the camera.This postseason has seen its share of public complaining from players, coaches and executives about perceived unfairness in officiating and flopping being rewarded. Milwaukee General Manager Jon Horst made a fuss about the lack of calls for the Bucks against Boston, while Celtics Coach Ime Udoka grumbled for the opposite reason.This, in sports parlance, is known as working the refs — an attempt to persuade referees to make more friendly calls in the next game. It’s a fool’s errand, Javie said.“They think it’s going to help them or something like that,” Javie said. “But any official worth their weight doesn’t give a darn what this guy says.”Away from the control room, Javie doesn’t spend any time watching basketball. He’s not a fan of the sport — it’s just business. His energy is spent mostly on spiritual endeavors and time with his wife, Mary-ellen Javie. He recently became an ordained minister, the latest step in his relationship with Catholicism, which began to evolve when he met Mary-ellen in the late-1980s at an airport counter.“I started getting back in my faith while we were dating,” Steve said.The journey “never ends,” he added. “And now we go through it together, which is really kind of cool.”Faith helped Javie get through a moment that threatened not just his livelihood, but his freedom. In 1999, Javie faced a federal prison sentence after he and several other referees were charged with tax evasion. The officials were accused of flying coach when the N.B.A. had purchased first-class tickets and then not reporting the difference in prices as income. The N.B.A. rules allowed for the downgrading of tickets and accepting the cash surplus, but the prosecutors said the officials were obligated to pay taxes on that money. Javie was the only official to fight the charges.Javie isn’t a basketball fan, but he does like the Philadelphia Eagles.Brian Fraser for The New York Times“In my faith journey, that was momentous,” Javie said, adding: “I don’t wish a federal trial on anybody. Two weeks in federal court, not knowing what the consequences could be, weighed very heavily on me. And I just couldn’t handle it.”He began to attend mass daily instead of just on Sundays. And he leaned on the closest person to him.“I said, ‘Mary-ellen, what’s going to happen if I’m found guilty and I’m convicted and I go to jail?’ She goes, ‘Well, then when you get out, we pick up the pieces and we move on,’” Steve said.He was acquitted by a jury in Philadelphia. Decades later, life is simpler now for Javie. He spends his summer weekends at the Jersey Shore with his wife, in an area where his former colleagues also spend summers. He’s a Philadelphia Eagles fan. But as far as broadcasting goes, Javie said that he saw himself as more of an “exception” in terms of post-career options for officials. In fact, Javie said no younger official has ever approached him for advice on breaking into the field.“Actually, I’m kind of looking for someone to take my spot when I go,” Javie said, adding, “I’ll do it as long as they want me.” More