STRIPES : For Gordon Wells, There Is More to NFL Umpiring Than Meets the Eye

Walking through the tunnel under Jack Murphy Stadium, Gordon Wells felt the sense of importance that has greeted him prior to every National Football League game.

Wells, a resident of Huntington Beach, has worked 16 playoff games and two Super Bowls in his 18 seasons as an NFL umpire. He is third in longevity among umpires, a “solid, dependable” official, according to Art McNally, the league’s supervisor of officials.

But the performance of an NFL official usually goes unnoticed until he throws that yellow flag.

Only when his flag falls do football fans take a good look at No. 89 in the black-and-white striped shirt, and it is a superficial look at best.

“The average person thinks we just walk into the stadium and let the chips fall where they may,” Wells said. “Nothing could be further from the truth.”

Officials, paid anywhere from $600 to $2,000 a game plus expenses, attend clinics in the spring and summer. On fall weekends, they crisscross the country, spending much of their time in hotel rooms and airports.

By kickoff time of a game that may last a little more than three hours, an official has spent about 12 hours in meetings. And the next day, they have to be back to their regular jobs as businessmen, educators, lawyers and insurance salesmen. Wells is chairman of the physical education department of Harbor College in Wilmington.

“The guys really prepare,” Wells said. “Then when the game is over, you are completely drained.”

An umpire’s concentration is crucial, not only to his success, but his physical survival. Wells is 6-foot-2 and weighs 215 pounds, but he is dwarfed by today’s professional linemen. He begins each play about 5 1/2 yards off the line of scrimmage, somewhere between the linebackers and defensive backs. It pays to be alert, he said: “On a draw play, your entire life goes before your eyes.”

In last year’s Super Bowl, the ball landed on Wells’ feet and so did just about everyone else. And earlier in the game, he was trapped between players in a misdirection play at the San Francisco goal line. Television replays showed him being buried beneath a heap of shoulder pads.

“(The umpire) is in a precarious place,” Wells said. “You’re dodging players all the time. You do it by feel. If you have to look around for these guys, you might as well retire. You learn the value of preparedness.”

The impact cracked a small bone in Wells’ foot, but he continued to work the game.

The NFL does not allow officials to be interviewed during the regular season, so the last chance to get a glimpse of their routine was in an exhibition game here.

“We used to let the press in to talk to them,” McNally said. “But we were averaging 15 requests a week. Where are you going to draw the line? Officials were constantly up in the forefront where they shouldn’t be.”

The officiating crew arrives at the stadium two hours before kickoff. A parade of people, all involved in some aspect of game management, knock on the door to brief or be briefed. Crew chief Dick Hantak, the referee, meets with radio and TV announcers and discusses timeouts.

Half an hour before the kickoff, all exit: Wells, Hantak, head linesman Tom Johnson, line judge Don Carlsen, back judge Paul Baetz, side judge Gary Lane and field judge Ed Merrifield. Each patrols a different area of the stadium.

Wells walks the length of the stadium, eyeing each player. He is primarily responsible for getting the 24 game balls to the field and checking for equipment violations. A wireless receiver is strapped to his back, the microphone taped to his neck. Wells is the official who communicates with the instant replay booth in the press box.

Wells spots two Charger players with towels that do not meet NFL regulations. He informs them that a towel cannot be more than 12 inches long and can be worn only tucked into the side of the pants. The players want to know if the official is joking. Wells, with a firm smile, tells them he is serious.

“Lots of young guys, the first thing they think is that we’re putting them on,” he says.

Wells is handed a card from the Phoenix trainer. It lists unusual medical equipment being worn, such as casts. Wells must check each one.

“Usually it’s the linemen with casts,” he explains. “They can play with casts, but we have a speech to give to each of them that says they can’t use it as a weapon.”

Wells is amiable throughout the routine, plying his trade with a grin.

“Yo, official,” Charger veteran linebacker Gil Byrd shouts. “This OK?” He points to a shorter towel on his hip. Wells nods approval.

It turns out to be an uneventful game for Wells. He detects his first violation--an illegal chop block--at the 13:35 mark of the second quarter. In all, he whistles just five penalties in the game.

Behind, 17-7, San Diego rallies to win, 21-20, on the final play of the game. A victory cannon sounds, and fans cheer the Chargers, who are whooping it up on the field.

Wells walks slowly off the field with Hantak at his side.

In the locker room, the crew fills out yellow cards that detail each penalty. The cards will be sent to the NFL’s New York headquarters to be compared to the game films and to similar comment cards from each team’s head coach. The information is used to rate each official’s performance, which could ultimately lead to that Super Bowl assignment. Last year, four members of Wells’ crew worked the Super Bowl.

Forty-five minutes later, most of the crowd has left, although about a hundred autograph seekers mill around the tunnel outside the stadium. The fans pay little attention to the officials, who are escorted to their automobiles.

Wells, in coat and tie and eating a sandwich, admits he’s tired but says he’s glad he has only an hour and a half drive home, which means he can sleep in his own bed tonight instead of an airplane seat.