When a referee blows the whistle, everyone assumes that the call will be made in the spirit of fairness and respect for all parties involved. Interestingly, though, this isn’t the case in modern sports; that sharp burst of air often carries an undertone of bias.
While these calls may seem objective — like a split-second judgment about contact or control — psychological research conducted on several leagues over the past decade suggests otherwise.
Personally, as both an athlete and an intramural referee, I’ve seen how snap decisions invite snap judgments. When the game is moving at full speed, ambiguity is constant. There’s a lot of uncertainty in every thought you have: Was that too much contact? Was that celebration “unsportsmanlike?”
Psychologist Philip Goff has spent years studying how racialized threat perception alters judgment. In one of his most cited experiments, participants were subliminally primed with Black or white male faces before identifying objects as weapons or tools. Those exposed to Black faces identified weapons more quickly and misidentified harmless objects more frequently. A Stanford psychologist, Jennifer Eberhardt, found a similar effect in a replication study.
Now swap that experiment for a basketball court. A referee doesn’t have milliseconds to reflect on implicit biases, but those same schemas can still shape what they perceive. An example of this would be a hard foul from a Black player that may seem more deliberate, while a white player’s bump may look accidental. Goff’s research demonstrates how cognition shifts in real time when stereotypes are activated.
Psychology shows that under these precise conditions — high pressure, limited time and elevated emotions — implicit bias thrives. In a culture where Black athletes are routinely coded as aggressive or volatile, that bias can shape every call and comment. Specifically within the NBA, data illustrate the exact picture that psychology predicts. In 2010, two economists, Joseph Price and Justin Wolfers, examined 13 NBA seasons to test whether officiating was colorblind. It wasn’t.
They found that players officiated by a referee crew of a different race were significantly more likely to be called for personal fouls. The researchers attempted to control for team, position and even the pace of play, yet the racial gap persisted. These racial biases were so prominent that Price and Wolfers were able to develop a model, based on the racial composition of the referee crew, that could predict relatively accurately whether a predominantly Black team was more likely to win or lose games.
These findings aren’t limited to professional sports or even just to basketball. An analysis conducted in 2012 of NCAA football penalties found that Black athletes were flagged disproportionately for “unsportsmanlike conduct” and “excessive celebration” violations. These two penalties are not rooted in illegal contact, but rather the referee’s interpretation of a player’s behavior. This pattern reflects the same shifts in perceived ‘aggression’ that Goff’s research identifies.
Referees may dictate how the rules are enforced, but commentators also shape narratives. Media-psychology studies consistently find racially coded framing in sports coverage. Black athletes are more likely to be described as “explosive,” “emotional” or “temperamental” while white athletes are praised for “discipline,” “intelligence” and “composure.”
This bias often surfaces through brief moments that reveal the racial subtext beneath what is supposed to be neutral commentary. In 2018, a broadcaster for the Oklahoma City Thunder, Brian Davis, described point guard Russell Westbrook’s performance by saying he was “out of his cotton-picking mind,” a phrase that is deeply rooted in the language of slavery and dehumanization.
Davis later apologized, claiming he meant no racial intent, but intent isn’t the point here. Language like that reinforces the idea of Black inferiority and, more specifically, associations between Blackness, labor and lack of civility.
More often, the bias in commentary is not as easily distinguishable as in the Russell Westbrook example. An example that illustrates this is the coverage of Serena Williams during the 2018 US Open. As tensions rose during her match, commentators repeatedly framed her behavior as angry, hysterical and out of control as she confronted an umpire over a disputed call.
However, when a white player like Jelena Ostapenko demonstrated equally strong or stronger reactions, such as slamming rackets, shouting in frustration or arguing fiercely with officials, commentators described her as fiery, competitive and passionate. The difference is uncanny.
This is precisely what psychologist Derald Sue identifies as a microaggression. Sue defines a microaggression as an everyday verbal slight that communicates a stereotype-based assumption while appearing benign or objective. In this case, the microaggression is embedded in what Sue calls a “layered message:” Black women’s assertiveness is reframed as emotional instability, fitting the angry Black woman trope, while white athletes’ expressions of frustration are celebrated.
This pattern is so consistent due to specific psychological mechanisms that Goff and Eberhardt identify. In the context of sports commentary, this means commentators may perceive the same behavior differently based on who performs it. Although the commentary appears to happen instantly, these perceptions take place long before any word is uttered live on air.
Sports commentary, like officiating, is therefore a reflection of the cognitive biases embedded in our broader culture. A single phrase or call may not seem very important. Still, across seasons and careers, these subtle framings shape public perception, influence how referees interpret similar behavior and contribute to a narrative about which athletes are rational or emotional and which are strategic or out of control.
“Sports commentary, like officiating, is therefore a reflection of the cognitive biases embedded in our broader culture,” King said.
During my time in college as an intramural referee, I’ve had to make numerous in-the-moment calls. A significant difference between my job and professional sports is that I don’t have a replay system; I don’t get a chance to second-guess myself. Therefore, those brief yet consequential moments made me wonder how much personal experience shapes what referees see.
Would other referees who look different from me, or come from various backgrounds, make the same calls? Psychology suggests that perception is never entirely objective but is filtered through an individual’s context and training.
In Claremont, most people contribute to fostering a progressive environment that openly values reflection, education and equity. But implicit bias, being subtle and unintentional, influences decisions even in places that commit to inclusion. We can create the proper conditions for people to recognize and respond to it.
This is the logical first step toward making fairness intentional. The more institutions genuinely invest in awareness and education, the more effectively we can mitigate the influence of those unconscious patterns and build systems that support equitable decision-making.
The recent shifts in officiating data demonstrate that awareness works. When leagues track patterns, evaluate decision-making and train their officials, the influence of implicit bias decreases. The same is true for commentators who examine their own language and identify subtle patterns that Sue would classify as microaggressions. Fairness improves when people understand how their own perception operates.
Bias doesn’t automatically mean malicious intent. Unfortunately, bias is taught from a young age, subliminally, in everything from textbooks to the news. This bias shapes small, unexamined moments in ways we don’t often notice. The same psychological patterns that influence officiating and commentary in sports can show up in everyday interactions on our own campus. That is why learning about this research matters — microaggressions are subtle. They typically hide in the quick assumptions people make about each other without ever intending harm.
We need to talk openly about these patterns to ensure that the Claremont Colleges continue to grow toward a reflective, intentional and aware community. We should think of bias as something we can recognize and work on, rather than something that defines us. If we do that, then the courts and classrooms we share can become fairer places. Awareness is not a perfect solution, but it changes how we treat each other and brings us closer together, which is the first step to real change.
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