NBA referee, Cedar Crest grad encourages others to become PIAA officials [photos, video]

They played the rest of the game in silence. Only the bouncing ball, squeaking sneakers and occasional whistle was heard.

Ashley Moyer-Gleich decided it had to be this way. The behavior of the spectators was a distraction, so the referee kicked them out. All of them.

It was a sign that the Cedar Crest grad was about to turn her newly-discovered passion into more than a hobby.

"I was no-nonsense," Moyer-Gleich said. "I was there to learn and figure out what I need to do to be the best official."

Moyer-Gleich started by working for the Mid-Penn's basketball chapter while she was still in graduate school. She rose to the professional ranks four years after making her first call. She reached the NBA eight years after graduating from Millersville University.

It began in small gyms in central Pennsylvania. One time with no one watching. When Moyer-Gleich told fans to exit those middle school bleachers, they did. She showed that she was in charge.

"At that point, making that decision, it really empowered me that I'm here to do my job," Moyer-Gleich said. "It gave me the confidence to step forward."

Moyer-Gleich, who lives in the Harrisburg area, was the guest speaker at a symposium at Central Dauphin on June 22. She wanted to help address the shortage of PIAA officials. To encourage others to give her profession a try.

Hoop dreams

A basketball was placed in Moyer-Gleich's hands at age 2 and she carried it with her through an accomplished college career.

Her dad, Dave Moyer, played at Lebanon High on the fabled Sam Bowie teams of the 1970s. Bowie was a guest at Moyer-Gleich's childhood birthday parties.

Being on the court wasn't a choice. It was a foregone conclusion.

"Basketball has always been part of how I was raised and what I loved doing," Moyer-Gleich said. "I loved the competitive portion. I loved pushing myself."

Moyer-Gleich was a 5-foot-9 guard who scored 1,375 points in high school, seventh-most in Cedar Crest history. She started 87 games at Millersville, captured three PSAC East titles, and finished second on the school's all-time list of 3-pointers made.

There was more than talent guiding her through her four college seasons under coach Mary Fleig. There were intangibles. Traits that help Moyer-Gleich to this day.

"She's one of the hardest-working kids I've ever coached," Fleig said. "She's one of the smartest kids I've ever coached. She was a leader out on that court. She knew the game so well back then."

Branden Lippy, the athletic director at Lampeter-Strasburg, was a fifth-year when Moyer-Gleich joined Millersville's team as a freshman. The two connected despite the gap in ages and experience levels.

Moyer-Gleich gave her captain a handwritten note at the end of the one season they played together. She thanked Lippy for being a mentor to the younger women. Lippy had no idea where Moyer-Gleich's basketball journey was going to take her. No one did.

Lippy wishes she held onto that letter. The memory of her time as Moyer-Gleich's teammate remains fresh in her mind.

"Ashley wanted to get better every single day," Lippy said. "That's what she did. She was tenacious. She did everything that Mary Fleig asked of us. She did it with respect and integrity."

Moyer-Gleich never considered becoming an official while she was playing. She didn't care much for officials. She called herself a "pistol" and she was hit with the occasional technical foul, including one in her final game.

"If she didn't agree with it, she was gonna let them know how she felt," Fleig said. "I think that's funny now. That's how she was. She was an intense, tough, smart player that coaches love."

Soon, Moyer-Gleich was on the other side of the complaints.

Climbing the ranks

Moyer-Gleich was discovered at Lancaster Bible College. She was calling a women's game when an NBA scout, who was there to review the men's officials later that night, happened to arrive early.

The scout came into the locker room and asked Moyer-Gleich if she had any interest in moving up to the pros. She thought it was a joke at first. Then she called her mom.

"He gave me an NBA card," Moyer-Gleich said. "It looks legit."

Moyer-Gleich was invited to a tryout for the NBA's minor league, which was called the D League at the time. The tryout lasted an entire summer and she made it through all four phases of testing. Some aspiring refs attend the tryout year after year and are turned away. Moyer-Gleich passed on her first attempt.

The Cedar Crest grad made her NBA debut in 2018 and became the second woman to call a playoff game in May. It happened faster than Moyer-Gleich could have imagined.

All of the worst parts of being a referee, the criticism from fans, the carping from coaches, didn't bother Moyer-Gleich. Those things felt familiar to her.

"I grew up my whole life being in these situations," she said. "You take it with a grain of salt. Over time you develop that thick skin where you don't let certain comments or the crowd noise get to you."

Referee numbers are dwindling and fewer people are willing to deal with the headaches that come with the whistle. Moyer-Gleich told prospective refs at Central Dauphin how rewarding the job has been for her. How it has changed her life.

"She started at the bottom and worked her way up," Lippy said. "My hope is she can show people it's a good profession, it's a noble profession, it's a revered profession."

Moyer-Gleich spoke candidly about her career and her early struggles. The time she froze instead of breaking up a D League confrontation between two players. The nerves she felt when LeBron James approached her for a conversation.

Staying in basketball was always Moyer-Gleich's plan. She figured it would be as a coach. She even worked as an assistant under Fleig during graduate school. Once she found officiating, there was no other path. This is how she wanted to stay connected to the sport she loves.

Being an NBA ref is challenging. The lifestyle is a grind. It includes traveling six days a week from the start of the season in October until the end in April. The scrutiny is intense. The pressure is profound.

"You get yelled at all the time," Moyer-Gleich said. "No one likes you. It's hard. But there are some great elements to it if you stick with it and find a purpose of being the best official you can."

Instead of making shots, Moyer-Gleich makes calls. It's her dream job. One she never saw coming.