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Although
the policy from the American Kennel Club
states that the decision of a judge is
final, this should not be construed to imply
that the decision of a judge is infallible.
True, there may be some judges who consider
themselves gods, not to be challenged or
questioned, but the reality is that
every—and I do mean every—judge makes
mistakes in judgment at different times in
his or her adjudication history. This is
true whether the judge is a provisional in a
breed or whether the judge is one of those
“gods” known as all-rounders.
Some judges
realize, after the fact, that they selected
the wrong dog for breed, winners, or, etc.
But once the book has been marked and
ribbons handed out, there is no
reconsideration. Judges also may learn the
error of their judgment when confronted by
questioning exhibitors at the conclusion of
a judging assignment. Yes, on occasion
judges learn something about a breed they
have just judged that they had never been
aware of. Sometimes, a fellow judge sitting
ringside may be the party who enlightens the
judge in the ring by pointing out some facet
of the evaluation that the presiding judge
may have misinterpreted, misapplied, or
overlooked. Even AKC Representatives may be
the agents who help a judge learn that he or
she misjudged a class or a breed. In any
case, errors do occur though probably less
often than one might think.
Of course,
every questioning of a judge’s selections
does not indicate that an error has
occurred. Many exhibitors and handlers
believe that their dog is deserving of a win
because of all the effort they put into
preparing and presenting the exhibit. They
care not that another competing dog is
superior in conformation even if not as well
groomed or as professionally presented.
They may also feel that the judge has erred
in not pointing to their highly advertised
dog, one for which the owners may have
shelled out thousands of dollars to the dog
publications over the past year or two.
However, complaints and questioning of a
judge’s perception do not necessarily
translate to poor judging on the judge’s
part.
I can look
back on some judging decisions I made over
the years which I regretted either
immediately after finishing the assignment
or a few days or weeks later when I saw
either the same dog I awarded a win to, or
another dog which I did not reward. My
original breed was Shetland Sheepdogs.
Twenty years later I still remember a couple
of assignments which I feel I may have
misjudged. One was an assignment, a major
as I recall, where my Best of Breed was a
dog which had the most beautiful head (in a
breed where head planes and muzzle are
important). I was torn between that dog and
another special which also had a nice
(though not exquisite) head. However, this
latter dog (the one whose head was quite
good but not great) exhibited superb
movement in reach and drive. Perhaps
because I was never able to own a Sheltie
with the exquisite head of my Best of Breed
winner, I chose to place too much emphasis
on that head feature while neglecting the
dog’s faulty, stilted movement. I went
overboard on one perspective of Sheltie type
(head), ignoring poor (I might even
admit—atrocious) movement on the part of my
Breed winner! The other dog with the good
head and superb movement should have been my
Best of Breed. And I reached this
conclusion almost immediately after having
picked the dog with the superb head.
Another
regret and possible error came in one of my
early Siberian Husky assignments—again, a
major at a time when the breed was drawing
entries of 60-70 dogs at some of the
all-breed shows in the early 1980’s. I had
judged the breed early in the week during
the 7-day Tarheel Circuit in
North
Carolina. For my Winners Bitch I picked a
dog which, at least at the time, seemed like
the best in her sex. The person handling
the dog was a total unknown to me, whereas
there were several well-known breeders and
professional handlers also competing.
Unlike the situation I described in the
previous paragraph (the Sheltie assignment),
I did not immediately regret my choice this
day (on Winners Bitch).
However, a
few days later on the same circuit, I was
observing the judging of more or less the
same large bitch classes by another judge.
The bitch I had given the win to earlier in
the week looked somewhat ordinary now. On
the other hand, there was a lovely bitch
competing this day which was clearly the
crème de la crème among the bitches. Surely
this bitch had not been in my ring a few
days earlier I thought. After the bitch
received her very deserving Winners Bitch
win, I walked over to the breeder/handler
and asked if the bitch had been shown to me
at the show earlier in the week. She had!
How could I have overlooked her! Naturally,
there is the old saying about judging dogs
“on the day”—that is, a dog that looks great
one day may be down the next day. But I
don’t think this lovely bitch could have
been that far “down” the day I judged. I
must have goofed—there seems no other
explanation.
On the other
hand, there was a show up in the Northeast
where I was judging the Working Group. I
knew before the assignment that there was a
top-winning Komondor in that part of the
country, and I wondered if the dog would be
in competition. I was curious to see what
others evidently felt was a superior example
of this somewhat rare breed. I was not
doing the breed that day, but when I judged
the Group, there was a Komondor in
competition which I guessed must have been
that top-winning dog. Except that the
individual handling the dog was not the
handler who had been campaigning that dog.
No problem—one judges the dogs, not the
handlers. But when the Komondor was gaited,
it seemed to be just going through the
motions, plodding ponderously and very
slowly as if movement was an unwanted
chore. The standard for the Komondor states
that gait is “light, leisurely and balanced…
takes long strides, is very agile and light
on his feet.” Not this dog—at least not
with this person handling him (it turned out
to be the owner—the handler who normally
showed him was busy in another ring). After
the Group, one judge sitting ringside asked
me how I overlooked the Komondor in the
Group placings (I think it won the Group the
previous day). I explained my reasoning.
This was one case where I felt I had not
made a mistake despite what the ringside may
have thought.
There was
another decision about which I felt at
loose ends at a large show in
Texas where
I was judging Dobes. At the Best of Breed
competition, in came a bitch, one of the
all-time top-winning bitches in breed
history. But there was also another
specials bitch which was an excellent
specimen (the male specials were really not
up to the quality of these two bitches).
When I gaited the top-winning bitch, I was
surprised and perplexed at the same time.
This bitch was already racking up win after
win, Groups and Bests in Show—under nearly
all the well-known names in the judging
world. But what I saw was the best side
movement I have every seen in a Doberman
coupled with a noticeably poor front! My
other specials bitch was a much better
overall mover as well as a good typey Dobie
bitch. Still, I felt that I wanted to
reward the first bitch’s side movement (in a
breed where movement is a problem) so I went
with the big winner who had that “to die
for” side movement. This breed assignment
is one I remember well though I am not
certain if I remember it with regret or with
some doubt about which way one should go
when the decision boils down to two
excellent typey dogs, one with a very
desirable hard-to-get feature (side
movement) but with less-than-excellent front
movement, the other dog with good type and
movement but not spectacular in any
important respect.
Do judges
make mistakes? Sometimes they do, hopefully
not often. And sometimes the decision is
not a mistake but the result of a dilemma
which might be remembered as such rather
than as a mistake to regret. Then, too,
what might sometimes look like a mistake
from ringside is really a correct choice on
the judge’s part. Judging is not as easy as
it may appear.
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