It took a moment for Rick Stover to realize what was going on that night.
Stover, a game official for four decades, was in his customary spot, standing between the two teams along with his fellow officials, when the athletes, coaches, students, and parents all rose for the national anthem.
That night, though, a member from the Columbia River and Skyview girls basketball teams came up to him.
“They said, ‘Can we stand by you?’ ” Stover said. “My first thought, ‘What’s going on?’ ”
It did not take long for Stover to understand.
At the behest of their coaches, the two players were standing with Stover to honor the official’s son, Air Force Capt. Christopher Stover, who died in a training accident in 2014.
Rick Stover returned, with a heavy heart, to officiating after his son’s death. His fellow officials understood what he was going through but there was no way to know how many outside of his circle of friends knew.
The basketball community did notice, however, and has showed its love and support with a simple yet powerful gesture. It started that night early last season and continues to this day.
“Overwhelming,” Rick Stover said of the gesture.
The national anthem had always been special to Rick Stover, more so after his son graduated from the Air Force Academy. A helicopter pilot, Chris Stover had tours in Iraq and Afghanistan before being assigned to England.
During the anthem, Rick Stover would focus all of his attention on one particular star on the American flag, one that he believed symbolized his son’s philosophy. Chris Stover, Rick said, always had someone’s back. There is a star in the lower right hand corner of the flag, not on the edge, but the one behind it. Yeah, that is Chris’ star.
Stover recalled working a game Jan. 6, 2014 and getting the call the next day with the news of that his son, along with three others, had died in a training accident in England. According to the Air Force’s report on the incident, Chris Stover’s helicopter had been struck by birds. Both pilots were knocked unconscious and the vehicle was disabled. The servicemen were training for a rescue mission, flying at low altitude.
Chris “was somebody who taught us to live life at every moment to its fullest,” Rick Stover said. “Enjoy the moment, every moment.”
Chris was the kind of guy who, even as an adult, would walk his dad down the toy aisle at a store just to press all the “try me” buttons. He also was a “junkie” for roller coasters.
“He wanted to do helicopters because they go really fast, close to the ground, and can go back and forth as opposed to fighter jets that are going fast but in one direction,” Rick said.
Rick Stover has been officiating basketball for more than 40 years, starting in Ohio, then Pennsylvania, and in Washington since the 1990s. He also has 20 years of soccer officiating experience.
He did not want to return to officiating right away but his wife and daughter-in-law insisted.
So a few weeks after the accident, Rick was back in a gym. The Evergreen Basketball Officials Association assigned him a seventh-grade junior varsity game.
“No stress,” Stover recalled.
Plus he worked the game with good friend Charlie Schwatka
“Charlie was there to protect me,” Rick said.
Stover was assigned bigger games later in the season, but always with a close friend on the crew.
“They were there for me, everybody in the association was,” Stover said. “It gave me the desire to continue and come back, to keep working at it. I felt I had people looking out for me.”
Just getting back on the court was tough enough, yet rewarding.
“It was a big transition, to see parents watching their children and knowing I didn’t have that opportunity with Chris,” Stover said. “I was a little sensitive for a few weeks.”
He also knows his son would be proud of him.
“This biggest thing in officiating is you make a call and you move on. You make another call and you move on,” Stover said. “Chris would have wanted me to continue to officiate. Make a call and move on.”
It was early in the 2015-16 season when longtime friend Carl Click, the girls basketball coach at Columbia River, coordinated with Skyview coach Jennifer Buscher. The coaches would send a player from their teams to join Stover near the scorer’s table.
“That was Carl’s way to show people that officials are just like everybody else. Life happens to them just like it does to everybody in the stands,” Stover said. “That was Carl’s way of showing compassion and to teach his players a bigger life lesson than playing basketball.”
Click, also a broadcast journalist at the time of Chris Stover’s death, said it was the first time he had to report on such a tragedy with a family he had known personally. He knew Rick’s association with sports, and of course that Rick was part of many national anthems.
“Now that Chris had died in the accident, that national anthem was going to be different and probably more emotional for him,” Click said. “I knew that.”
Click did not want his friend to stand alone.
It also was a chance to get others to ask questions. Why were those players standing by the referee?
“I just thought it was a great opportunity to … make sure people knew about his family’s sacrifice,” Click said. “I wanted my players to know about that sacrifice.”
Teaghan Cowles, who now plays softball at Stanford, was the representative from Columbia River’s basketball team that first night.
“Just standing next to him, it was really cool and powerful,” Cowles said. “He looked really touched, too.”
Hannah Hale, who is now serving in the U.S. Navy, said she was honored that her coach asked her to represent the Storm.
“To stand next to him, to share that moment, it was emotional,” Hale said.
Not much was said after the anthem.
“I could see the tears in his eyes,” Hale said. “I saw in his eyes how much it meant to him.”
Rick Stover needed a moment to compose himself that night. No, he needed several minutes. Only he did not have that kind of time. The game had to start.
In the business of officiating, a bad toss is cause for ridicule among peers. Stover knew he was in trouble. He was supposed to make the toss for the opening tip-off.
“It was not happening. It. Was. Not. Happening. I could have thrown that ball to the ceiling, or maybe just barely got it out of my hand,” Stover said, laughing at himself, enjoying the memory.
So he quietly told another official that there would be a change of plans.
” ‘You need to throw the ball up because who knows where I’ll throw it.’ I was emotionally spent,” Stover said.
That first night was just that, a first night. The gesture spread and continues to spread.
It does not happen every game, but it is becoming more frequent, a player from each team standing beside him during the pre-game ceremony.
At one game, a Mountain View player asked Stover if she could stand with him.
“I thought she said, ‘Could I sing with you?’ ” Stover said. “Talk about panic!”
Columbia River senior Anna Klundt locked arms with Stover for the national anthem at a game earlier this season.
“He started crying a little bit, then I started to cry a little bit,” Klundt said. “I needed to hold off because we had a basketball game to play.”
Cowles and Klundt acknowledged that for many athletes, standing for the national anthem is just something to do before a game.
Just as Click had hoped, though, this was a life lesson for players as well as a helping hand to a friend in need.
“People see that and everyone starts asking questions,” Cowles said. “It wasn’t over-the-top or dramatic. It was just a small sign of solidarity.”
“Before, you just listen to the song, you just stare at the flag,” Klundt said. “After that, I’ve thought of the official and his son every time I stand for the flag. Every time I see a flag, it’s flashback to that moment.”
Since Chris’ death, Rick Stover has added his own gesture to his pre-game routine. He still stares at that one star on the American flag, but he also adds a salute.
“The hardest part of the game, even today, is the national anthem,” Stover said.
It is easier, though, having so many people stand with him — figuratively and literally.
Stover said he is trying to show appreciation for the players.
“I’ve learned a little bit. First couple times, I was just floored,” Stover said. “Now, I thank the girls for standing beside me. Now, I process it a little better.
“But I still can’t throw the ball up.”
