A whistle is hushed: Rest in Peace, Millard Bates

The legendary basketball official passed away Wednesday at age 91

Millard Everett Bates 1930-2022

Oregon’s officiating royalty lost one of its very best on April 20.  Millard Bates, who toured the hardwood for over 67 years for various levels of basketball, passed away peacefully after suffering a stroke over the weekend.  He was 91 years old.

The formal obituary will include a long list of accomplishments that underscores Millard’s officiating proficiency and professionalism.  He was featured in a USA Today video five years ago lionizing his dedication and unmistakable style as a dramatic teacher of the game to so many younger players, especially in his later years.

But there was more to Millard Bates than the striped shirt and whistle.  So much more.  And as a former student and longtime friend, I want to share a little bit more about the man—a one of a kind educator and official.

Millard Bates taught mathematics to squirrelly teens at Leslie Junior High in the early 1970s, after being at Parrish Junior High for decades before that.  His intimate (think “small”) room in the basement of the building was the scene of some decidedly intense learning my eighth grade year.  Mr. Bates would use his voice for effect—whispering as needed, but mostly shouting with frustration or joy as his charges attempted to understand the concept of “variables.”

“Mercy Bear,” Mr. Bates would exclaim at the top of his lungs.

“Come on Gilman, what is the answer?  Solve for X, young man!”

He would even jump on top of his desk to underscore his encouragement for kids.  Many of us got into it, perhaps too much.  I recall receiving an “N” (Needs Improvement) citizenship grade in his class one semester, and feeling rather proud of it.  After all, he wanted student involvement, right?

My ninth grade year, I didn’t have Mr. Bates for math, but I would come by his new classroom after school most days just to chat.  He never seemed to be too busy for any of us.  The perpetual teacher was still on the clock well after the last bell.

Not everyone appreciated his high energy schtick.  My younger sister was one of them.  She just didn’t like teacher humor at the time.  So she decided she wanted to prank Mr. Bates by placing a rather skimpy nightgown in his unlocked classroom closet.

Mr. Bates got wind of it and refused to open the closet door.  This is where my sister and I recruited a female math teacher on staff.  She waltzed into his classroom during her prep period, opened the closet, removed the nightie, and then thanked Mr. Bates for holding on to it for her, dropping a kiss on his cheek for effect. The class roared, and poor Mr. Bates lit up like a traffic light.  You couldn’t get away with such theatrics these days.  But it sure was funny.

Bates didn’t limit his energy to the classroom.  Example: he would always take part in the annual staff-student basketball game, when the varsity boys players lined up against the top male staff hoopsters.  While many of those youthful teachers were warming up with deep jump shots, Millard would stand out near mid court and ask for the ball.

And then, Mr. Bates would start launching half court hook shots, one after another.  The first one or two might miss—but soon, he would hit 3 or 4 in a row.  Plenty of appreciative applause was provided during this exhibition prior to the actual game itself. 

Mr. Bates was also Coach Bates.  He had the same high energy approach to directing his team.  My eighth grade year as a football player, he took his efforts a step further than any teacher could ever do these days.  The team showed up at the practice field and started our warm ups, but didn’t know where Coach Bates was.  The rest of the staff was there, but not him.  We soon spotted him—outfitted in some ill-fitting football equipment, ready to take on our hard-nosed defense.  He carried the ball several times and got pounded pretty good in the process, but I think he figured if we could handle him, then a bunch of 12 and 13 year olds would be a piece of cake.

And these are examples of what set Millard Bates apart from some other officials—he was a showman.  Not in a braggadocios way, but in a “here are my skills” sort of way.   His high energy was always on display as he officiated games at the high school level.

A prime example of this took place on the 7th of January, 1976 at Sprague High School.  The Statesman Journal has an archived photo of this incident (provided), but I was there and saw it happen.  Millard was streaking down the floor to follow a long pass—when he suddenly slipped.  Down went the official, eyes still on the ball as it was tipped out of bounds.  As he came to a screeching halt, his legs popped up on the baseline wall, Bates correctly signaled the ball possession.  It was a picture that went national.  Typical Millard Bates.  Hustling at full speed, and looking pretty good doing it.

Millard Bates at Sprague High School. 7 Jan.1976. Statesman Journal Archive

This sort of “hustlemania” officiating was Millard’s trademark, and he displayed it repeatedly, even as age slowed him a step or two.  When street basketball came to Salem (Hoopla), Millard got involved.  He was always clear in making his calls, and was determined to explain a call if needed.  In 2003, he was attacked from behind by a losing player in a Hoopla game.  He wasn’t seriously hurt, but was a scary moment.  However, it failed to keep him away from the three-on-three tournament, where he was honored for his longtime service.

In recent years, Mr. Bates reduced his officiating to mostly youth and recreational adult basketball games. But he stayed true to his routine, showing up thirty minutes early before doing the game or games, depending on the schedule.

His daughter, Sheryl, told me that Millard officiated his last games in January of 2020, when he was on the floor for two contests at Salem’s First Church of the Nazarene.

In recent years, Bates was slowed by dementia.  Sheryl says he had more good days than bad.  I had actually made plans to see Millard this week, shortly after my return from a family vacation, but his sudden passing left me with just my memories and an emotional gut punch.

Millard Bates and I chatted time and again many times over the years.  Perhaps thirty years ago, I had made a positive comment about him as my favorite teacher of all time—which somehow ended up in the local newspaper. Bates tracked me down that same week and brought me flowers in a baseball-shaped planter, explaining he was very appreciative of my kind comments.  I was left speechless.  And those who know me realize how rarely that happens.

In more recent years, Millard would show up at key high school basketball games where I was broadcasting for KBZY Radio.  One of us would spot the other and make a point of laughing loudly, shaking hands, and then hugging briefly.  Always a positive, high energy encounter.

I will always regret missing out on seeing my friend one more time.  But I am highly confident that the good Lord himself has already outfitted Millard Bates with his own solid gold whistle, letting him continue to do what he was born to do—officiate basketball games with gusto.

See you soon, Millard.