Let It Lie

"It's not a lie if you believe it." -- George to Jerry in a classic line from a Seinfeld TV episode

Never would I have believed this till I experienced for myself officiating on the sidelines at a youth football game.

Following a pass play down the sidelines, I suddenly encountered a sudden impact on my shoulder. It was a face. A coach's face. A coach's face where the face of a coach shouldn't have been during a live part of a football game. Ouch. That would be him as I was relatively unfazed by the contact. He, on the other hand, stood stooped over clutching his lower jaw looking as if he may begin to start spitting out teeth. I noted this as the play ended and was returning to my position on the line after the incomplete pass. And by rule as I passed him, threw a penalty flag at his feet. "That will cost you 15 yards for contacting an official," I verbalized to his.

"Whaath!" he exclaimed, as I proceeded to report the infraction to my referee for the enforcement.

And this is where it got interesting or disturbing, you can choose.

The referee decided to explain the penalty to the coach. What a sight as he tried to generate sympathy by remaining stooped over and clutching at the offended part of his face. And streaming out the denial that I did this intentionally and he was where he was supposed to be and it was my fault.

Referee then returns to center of field, yours truly returns to his post on the sidelines, now noticeably clear of coaches standing where they weren't supposed to be.

And then he did it. He couldn't keep his mouth shut, even as he still was holding it with his hand like it was a baby bird.

"I wath where I wath thuppothed thu be and you hith me," came from his lips.

I saw red.

I turned and said, "Excuse me."

"I wath where I wath thuppothed thu be and you hith me, ran righht intho me."

Somewhat shocked, and gazing not only at him but the 5th graders and assistant coaches looking at me as well awaiting my response, I lost my temper.

"You mean to tell me you are going to stand there and LIE to me in front of these kids and your coaches about where you were standing to make it seem that I am the bad guy. Despicable. You are supposed to be a mentor and a teacher and you are going to LIE to me. I know where you were standing. I hit you. If you were standing where you say you were standing I would have run into about 10 of your players or coaches and would have run down my chain crew as well before I ever even got to hitting you. I don't seem to remember hitting anyone but you. That's because they were where they were supposed to be and you weren't. Now are you going to keep trying to lie to me? Because if you are I am going to throw another flag on you as well as toss you out of here and you can watch the rest of this game from the parking lot. Well?"

He backed into the coaches box where he faithfully remained for the rest of the game.

And I hope by those that witnessed me standing against the lie, they may have learned a bit about personal responsibility and integrity.

A few plays later, the guy on the down-box indicator said that he thought I gave the guy a bit of a forearm shiv as I ran into him. Then he smiled and laughed.

Maybe I did and maybe I didn't. An official has to protect himself out there.

"By a lie, a man... annihilates his dignity as a man." -- Immanuel Kant

The Umpire

"The job of arguing with the umpire belongs to the manager, because it won't hurt the team if he gets thrown out of the game." -- Hall of Fame Manager Earl Weaver

I often wonder why I do it. Sometimes it stresses me out beyond belief. I question myself constantly. Was that the right call? Did I do the right enforcement of the penalty? Did I really see what I thought I saw? Oh no, this is going to bring the coach out of the dugout. Are you serious coach?

Coaches don't help you out, as they shouldn't. 99% of them don't know 1% of the rules for the game that they are trying their darnedest to compete at. The ones that do are easily the superior ones and cause very little problems with the flow of a contest. However, get a coach with a limited amount of knowledge and you can be spending a lot of time explaining the subtle differences in his and your interpretation of the rule book. Or as I like to refer to it as, "The Game Bible." Worse than coaches with limited rules knowledge are the ones that forget the level of the game they are playing. The 8 year old community rec contest is not Major league baseball and the youth league football game may be played on Sunday but its not the NFl. Similar game...different rules.

You better hope your partner is doing his job and keeping his focus. At least you pray he knows some of the rules of the game. If not, be prepared to answer for his failings and every other official that didn't meet the standards of what coaches and fans expect from them in every past contest of the season. Sometimes many seasons.

When I get yelled at, it most often goes back to me making a call that wasn't what was called "last game by the officials" or I must just not "like" that team. Yeah, never liked teams wearing the color red, have pirates as mascots or have idiots for coaches. Oops, idiots for coaches do help me with my officiating. Those games tend to end up as mercies for the other team which makes idiots more likely to blame me. My one bad call (in his opinion) is what caused the whole team to melt down and lose by 100 points. It was definitely the officials fault. How am I going to sleep at night knowing I cheated for the other team?

And I firmly believe, that everyone, coaches included, are entitled to their own stupid opinions. But the smartest of coaches--and fans for that matter--would do wise to heed the "real" Bible's interpretation of how one should act during athletic contests: Proverbs chapter 17, verse 28--Even a fool, when he holdeth his peace, is counted wise: and he that shutteth his lips is esteemed a man of understanding.

Can you hear that blessed silence, where the game can be watched for the simple joy of the sport? Baseball could even be as much fun as fishing, if it wasn't for certain fans and coaches. Though you can fish when it rains. Watch the games for the movement and ignore the mistakes. After all, they are as much a part of the total game as the rest. And for gosh sakes, most of the times the athletes are kids...and other peoples kids at that.

Once you rest your attitude(and shutteth your lips), then you could get a bit of perspective of why I officiate.

"Umpires have the toughest job in baseball. Ever since the birth of the boos, they have suffered more abuse than a washroom wall." -- Ernie Harwell in Tuned to Baseball (1985)

Kind of Sucked

Had a rough last few days. Seems that happens at times when you engage and participate in this world. Most of my rough visions involved my officiating youth football.

Dumb coaches that don’t know the rules. How many times do I have to tell them that the rules for high school football are not the same as college and the NFL. They may play their youth games on Sunday but they play under different rules.

Did not hear a single positive coaching voice from the sidelines. If we screamed at our own 4th and 5th grade children like some of these coaches, they would take them away from us. What happened to coaching? The definition of coaching to me is watching the game played and observing the young athletes and offering how they can improve their play. Not to degrade and humiliate them in front of their peers.

What happens next when that doesn’t take place -- happened Sunday. The kids started blaming each other and their bullying continued. I even tried to explain to one 6th grader how you couldn’t talk like that to his "own" players and his opponents. He mocked me by repeating in “that” sarcastic voice exactly what I said. I promptly hit him (and his team) with an 15-yard unsportsmanlike conduct penalty. I then took the time and explained what he did to his coaches. He remained in the game without any attitude adjustment efforts by his coaches. I wouldn’t have played a snap after that if I had lipped off to an official. The coaches held you accountable for your actions in my youth. You don’t hurt your team and get away unscathed.

One young man broke his ankle. I knew he was hurt by the string of profanity being screamed. I didn’t know that a 7th grader could string that many profane words together so easily. He had obviously done it before because he was good at it.

The EMS that came for him seamed to saunter in slow motion to help him. They really sauntered. This kid was in pain and he needed to get to a hospital and get treated. Quickly. You don’t call emergency personnel to a injury scene to get you to some help…slowly.

Same game. Another ambulance. This time a concussion and a prone player on the sidelines. And I had to keep telling the coaches that they couldn’t coach the kids while they were getting this kid to the hospital. They actually could think of something to say to their team that was more important than that young man laid-out on the sidelines.

I grow more and more disenchanted with grown-ups that haven’t grown-up. I understand more and more why my wise wife likes to be quietly left alone.