FIRST dooowwwnnn ... and life to go!

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Contents

Foreword By Bill Parcells..........................................................................ixChapter 1: Can't Keep A Good Man Dooowwwnnn........................................................1Chapter 2: Cold Reality Of Where It All Began......................................................11Chapter 3: Differentiating Between Imaginary Bugs And Real-Life Subway Thugs.......................25Chapter 4: Treat People Right; They Tend To Do The Same in Return..................................43Chapter 5: Wanna Super Life? Make Sure You Have A Super Bowl Perspective...........................62Chapter 6: Counting My Blessings ... Even In Retirement............................................82Chapter 7: Even On The Gridiron, It All Comes Down To People And Relationships.....................115Chapter 8: So, You Want To Be An Official?.........................................................135Chapter 9: Many Thanks To Many Wonderful Folks.....................................................155Appendix...........................................................................................164A. Red Cashion All-Time Regular-Season NFL Crews...................................................164B. Sample NFL Officials Test From 2011.............................................................166C. Answers For Sample NFL Officials Test From 2011.................................................173

Chapter One

An optimist is someone who figures that if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it's the bluebird of happiness. ~Robert Brault

When used together and directed specifically toward you, two of the more humbling, haunting and humiliating words that can ever be uttered are: "You're fired!"

Life can be progressing along smoothly, satisfactorily and precisely as planned until those two words stop you dead in your tracks, smacking you in the face with the full-throttle force of a freight train. Especially in terms of how it affects the male ego, being fired can be beyond disheartening. It's often demoralizing, and I wouldn't wish it on anyone.

I certainly hope you never hear those two words ... unless, of course, they have the same wonderfully positive effect on your life as they did on mine. Being fired was definitely a life-altering event for me in a good way.

No, I take that back. It was actually transforming in a grand and magnificent manner. It made me re-think my methods. It forced me to re-evaluate my goals and plans to achieve them. And it essentially allowed me to reshape my destiny as an official, challenging me to make some significant personality changes and to approach my role with far more passion.

In hindsight, it's likely that I would have never made it to the NFL if not for being fired. Nor would I have been as successful in my business endeavors. And I certainly would not have been inducted into the Texas Sports Hall of Fame or written this book.

It was only after I was fired that I fully realized my attitude needed an overhaul. That was a pivotal moment in my life. Once I adopted a far more enthusiastic approach to my profession—and, for the most part, to life in general—I realized that not even something so demoralizing as being fired could keep a good, upbeat and optimistic man down.

Or should I say "dooowwwnnn?"

If I had a dollar for every time someone has asked me about how my trademark "first dooowwwnnn" call originated, I might be able to afford a secondary home (my wife and I currently live in Bryan/College Station, Texas) in Dallas. Or Denver. Or maybe even Dubai.

For that matter, if I had a dime for every time someone had recognized me and done his/her own impersonation of me performing that call, I might be able to pave a path of silver from Dallas to Denver.

In my full-time profession, I worked for many years in the insurance industry. I was once working on a huge insurance deal at the famous Lloyd's of London Building on Lime Street in downtown London when somebody at one of the broker's tables yelled—loudly and across the hallway—at me: "first dooowwwnnn!"

The broker I was working with asked me: "Do you know what the bloody bloke is talking about?"

"I do," I replied, somewhat sheepishly.

It happened similarly at the CNN Center in Atlanta. It's also occurred in office buildings, theaters, sporting venues and restaurants from Minneapolis to Miami, Provo to Pittsburgh, Boston to Berkley and all points in between. For whatever reason, it is an especially common occurrence in airports.

Outside the American Airlines terminal at Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport, I once stood waiting to catch a courtesy van that would take me to a hotel on the airport grounds where an NFL meeting was being held. Before the van arrived, however, one of the long buses that transported passengers from a commuter terminal to the main American Airlines terminal whisked past me and then circled back around toward me. I was standing there, basically by myself, and I waved at the driver attempting to inform him that I did not need a ride from him.

He kept coming anyway. He pulled the bus right up next to me, as the brakes screeched to a halt. He then flipped open the automatic bus doors, sprang out of the driver's seat, stepped out of the bus and hollered: "first dooowwwnnn!" Then he returned to the bus, sat back down, shut the doors and sped away.

I chuckled and shook my head in amazement. I still do.

Although I was still working for the NFL as a referee trainer through 2012 and have worked for the league in some capacity for more than four decades, I last worked a professional football game as a referee in January 1997. Nevertheless, I am stunned and amazed by how many people continue to mimic that call and quiz me about how it began.

The reality is that my emphatically enthusiastic "call" of those two words stemmed from hearing these two categorically abysmal words: "You're fired!"

As I will document in detail in the ensuing chapters, I had dreamed for many years of becoming an official—hopefully a referee—in the National Football League. I started working junior high games as a college student at Texas A&M and worked my way through the high school and junior college ranks with a continuing vision of reaching the pinnacle of the officiating profession. When I earned an opportunity to work collegiate games in the Southland Conference (SLC) in the 1960s, I really thought I was on my way.

The SLC was a small-school conference that had been founded in 1963 with original members Abilene Christian, Arkansas State, Lamar, UT-Arlington and Trinity. In other words, it was hardly the big-time or the bright lights of college football. But I figured it was a great collegiate entry point for me as I continued to climb the ladder all the way to the NFL.

As such, I took a very dignified, detached and stately approach to how I worked games in the SLC. I didn't participate in much unnecessary chit-chat with coaches, players or fellow officials. I showed no bias and, essentially, displayed no personality. I vowed to be a black-and-white-striped machine and strived to exhibit regal professionalism.

I achieved this aloof, impersonal agenda with such resounding effectiveness that I was fired after one season. My longtime friend, Taylor Wilkins, delivered the news gingerly, as opposed to emphatically. But it still hit me like a right hook from a heavyweight boxing champion. Wilkins said he had to fire me because the coaches in the Southland Conference didn't believe I was particularly interested in the games. That was not true at all. I loved working those games and being on those fields. My no-emotion agenda was merely a monotone masquerade that had backfired on me in a crushing blow.

Honestly, my first thought was: "How in the world can I even fathom making it into the NFL if I can't even cut it in the Southland Conference?"

After overcoming my initial shock and dismay, I made a decision to make some major changes in my approach. After some soul-searching, I thought back to a very important lesson I had learned early in my insurance career. I was struggling to make ends meet when, out of the blue, a gentleman stopped by my office in College Station and encouraged me to participate in a Dale Carnegie course.

Quite frankly, I didn't have the money to participate in that course or any other kind of training. I was just trying to make sure we could pay all of our bills each month. But I did possess a burning desire to be successful at something. My father-in-law, Hershel Burgess, seemed to have a golden touch in everything he pursued. He'd played football at Texas A&M; he'd become an official in the Southwest Conference; and he was a well-known and successful businessman with a local bank. I married his daughter, Lou Burgess, in December of '52. I'd been sweet on Lou ever since we attended first grade together, and I always wanted to prove to her father that I was successful enough to provide Lou with the lifestyle she deserved.

It was with this in mind that I decided to scrape together enough money to take the Dale Carnegie course. I knew Carnegie had written one of the great self-help books of all-time, How to Win Friends and Influence People, and I knew a little about his background. My dad, Mason Cashion (known to his friends as "Cash"), ran the Y.M.C.A. on the Texas A&M campus, so I always had at least a passing interest in Carnegie because he basically received his start at a Y.M.C.A. in New York, where he lived for a while in 1912.

Carnegie, broke at the time, persuaded the manager of the Y.M.C.A to allow him to teach a public speaking course and to keep 80 percent of the profit. Carnegie had little expertise on the subject, but he essentially struck gold when he encouraged his students to speak about something that angered them. He discovered that the students overcame their fears of public speaking when discussing a subject that evoked passionate emotions. From that discovery, Carnegie developed his course that developed self-confidence through public speaking, salesmanship, interpersonal skills and more.

My decision to participate in the ten-week course was one of the greatest choices I ever made. One of the most memorable exercises I performed was to write the word "enthusiasm" across the top of a 3X5 card and place that card in my shirt pocket facing outward so that everybody I encountered would see the word.

As I met people and interacted with people I already knew, I was stunned by how contagious enthusiasm is in day-to-day activities. Some people asked me about it, while others just seemed to be energized by the word. I quickly realized that, while displaying the word was influential, the personification of the word was even more powerful.

I made a vow to live and work enthusiastically. I returned to the vow, recalling the lessons learned from the Carnegie course, after I was fired by the SLC. I also became a student of enthusiasm. And as I read through the books of the Bible, I found a number of examples of God's perspective on enthusiasm, such as:

• Matthew 5:16: "Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven."

• Romans 12:11: "not lagging in diligence, fervent in spirit, serving the Lord."

• Galatians 6:9: "And let us not grow weary while doing good, for in due season we shall reap if we do not lose heart."

To make a long story short, I began practicing what the Bible and the Carnegie course had been preaching. Some remarkable results followed for me in my personal, professional and spiritual endeavors. After being fired by the Southland Conference, I earned roles with the far more prestigious Southwest Conference, and in 1972, I became a line judge in the National Football League.

My goal had been accomplished ... all because of taking a more enthusiastic approach. As I continued to work on improving myself, my attitude, my approach, my perspective and so forth, enthusiasm produced more beneficial results, landing me a promotion of sorts in 1976 when I became a referee.

If you are watching a football game on television, the person you hear describing a penalty and announcing the down-and-distance is the referee. Once I attained this new role, I wanted to be as enthusiastic and upbeat as possible. One of the top referees when I joined the NFL was Tommy Bell, who would announce a first down that was the result of a penalty by hitting his right fist into the palm of his left hand and then make the "first down" hand signal by pointing his right hand in the direction the offense was moving.

I admired Bell, and I thought his movements exhibited more enthusiasm than all of the other referees. But I also didn't want to steal his trademark move, so I devised my own version of displaying some excitement when making a call, using my natural Texas drawl to inform all the fans inside the stadium and the viewers at home that the penalty had resulted in a "first dooowwwnnn!"

That's where it all began. And that's why I began making that call so emphatically.

I honestly do not believe that my style had anything to do with me being able to work three Super Bowls (two on the field and one as an alternate) or to receive assignments for 23 playoff games over the course of my 25 seasons in the NFL. I worked hard at being a very good official, and substance—not style—enabled me to earn a strong reputation among the coaches, players and other officials in the league.

On the other hand, I have no doubt that what distinguished me among the fans and made me so recognizable on television was the manner in which I made that call. Consequently, that's probably why I was inducted into the Texas Sports Hall of Fame in 1999 alongside legendary sports personalities David Robinson, Eric Dickerson, Sheryl Swoopes, Marsha Sharp, Ty Murray and Jim Hall. It's also one of the primary reasons I have received a number of other honors through the years, including being named as a Distinguished Alumnus of Texas A&M, Citizen of the Year by the Bryan/College Station Chamber of Commerce and "Legend" by Referee Magazine.

I do not mention these honors to boast. My point is this: A bend in the road—like being fired—is not the end of the road ... unless you fail to make the turn.

A little adversity forced me to alter my attitude, and that has made all the difference in my life. An enthusiastic attitude can be the difference between throwing yourself a pity party and being inducted into the hall of fame.

One of my hopes in writing this book is that readers will draw some inspiration from my unlikely path from rags to throwing flags in the NFL. I do hope you find my story to be entertaining, encouraging and uplifting. After all, if a guy like me who never even played a college sport can find a place in the Texas Sports Hall of Fame, surely anyone can accomplish their seemingly far-fetched dreams, as well.

I've also divided this book in a manner in which those rabid fans of NFL football will receive some perspective on the sport that can only come from the men who interpret the rules of the game. And I've included plenty of information for all of those sports enthusiasts who have considered the possibility of becoming an official, an umpire or a referee. I even included some sample tests in the appendix that NFL officials take on a regular basis.

Most of all, though, my purpose in writing this book is to remind readers to stay enthusiastic about life and to stay upbeat in their passionate pursuits no matter what hurdles are thrown into their path. It's been my experience that if you stay positive and persistent long enough and continue to approach your goals optimistically that you will, indeed, accomplish great things. But you must commit to enthusiasm over the long haul ... even if someone else tries to rain on your sunshine perspective and throw you off course.

Even after I had changed my outlook, achieved my goal of reaching the NFL and used my emphatic first dooowwwnnn call as a referee for numerous years, someone tried to curtail my enthusiasm. Jerry Seeman, who eventually succeeded Art McNally as Senior Director of Officiating in the NFL, possessed an accountant's mentality, meaning that he thought everybody ought to look and sound the same. He told me on numerous occasions that the "first dooowwwnnn" call was inappropriate and annoying. He once told me that the sportswriters and announcers in the press boxes throughout the NFL continuously mocked me.

He thought it was silly, and out of respect for him, I was seriously considering another approach. I'd essentially made up my mind that I was going to eliminate the call in the offseason. But it just so happened that I was scheduled to work a preseason game at the start of the year in Berlin. I went to Pittsburgh's camp, as officials typically do, prior to the overseas trip. So, I was in Pittsburgh when I jumped on a flight directly to Berlin, where I would work the game at Olympic Stadium, the venue built for the 1936 Olympics where Jesse Owens stole the spotlight from Adolf Hitler.

As I was walking down the terminal hallway in the airport, I ran into Joe Browne, the Senior Vice President of communications for the NFL and the right-hand man to former NFL commissioner Paul Tagliabue. He said, "The commissioner really likes the way you say `first dooowwwnnn.'"

I said, "Oh, really?"

He said, "Yeah, we used to have a bunch of characters in the league who made it fun. Now, we have so many guys doing the same thing. Even the officials all look and sound alike. So, to have guys be a little unique and creative is really appealing to the commissioner. Too often, we hear that the NFL stands for the `no fun league.'"

After Browne and I parted ways, I said to myself, "I don't care what Jerry thinks, I am going to keep on doing it." In fact, I probably took it up a notch, adding a little more emphasis and a little more enthusiasm.

That decision carried me a long way. An enthusiastic approach can do the same for you.

Chapter Two

Shallow men believe in luck. Strong men believe in cause and effect. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

As I look back on that bitterly cold January morning in 1972, I'd love tell you now that I was reciting the wise words of Martin Luther King, Jr., T.S. Eliot, Milton Berle, Ralph Waldo Emerson and others as I traversed the pre-dawn, murky streets of New York City. It would make a much better story now, especially since I wholeheartedly embrace the messages of all those powerful quotes. And in hindsight, I do believe that my extremely unlikely path to the National Football League is a personification of those astute quotes. I most certainly took a tremendous leap of faith by even going to New York, creating my own opportunity by risking more than most realistic men would have ever risked. As a result, I was the beneficiary of a cause-and-effect situation that others might merely label as "luck."

(Continues...)

Excerpted from FIRST dooowwwnnn ... and life to go!by Red Cashion Rusty Burson Copyright © 2012 by M.L. Cashion and Rusty Burson. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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