You had better not be talking camera man!

I have ironically working on this blog all week, and it all came to a head last night at Wichita Heights in the girls soccer game between Heights and Kapaun. After spending the last week doing my best to stick up for the brave men and women who officiate games, I couldn’t believe my ears last night.

Alright, now gather round. It’s story time!

From the time I arrived at Heights, the only words out of my mouth were, “I’ll take a hamburger, thanks,” at the concession stand during halftime.

So you can imagine my surprise in the middle of the second half when a linesman passed me running down the field and said, “You had better not be talking camera man! One more word and you are leaving!”

“Huh?”

“Did you say something?!”

“No.”

This exchange was followed by a smug look on his face that nonverbally said, “Just give me a reason pal. I heard what you said.”

Now, I have no way of knowing what he thought he heard me say. It was about the same time a fan in the stands behind me made a crack comparing the referee’s white beard to Santa Claus. Maybe that was it.

I don’t know.

The reason I got into sports writing is that I love competition. Every time I go to a game, I am hoping to see a close, competitive contest. And the Heights 3-2 win over Kapaun was a great game.

But believe me when I say that I really have no rooting interest in the outcome of a game as far as who wins.

The unbelievable assumption by this linesman, was not only was I going for one team over the other, but that I was emotionally invested enough to be yelling at a referee.

I tried to talk to the linesman after the game in an attempt to get to the bottom of what happened. But he bolted instantly and I didn’t get the chance.

The following is what I had been working on all week leading up to this incident. It is not something taken away from one game, but my observations over the course of three years of covering sports.

In the last three years of covering all types of sports in every season, I can count on one hand the number of outcomes that weren’t, “the ref’s fault.”

I cringe to think of the trillions of people who have spent the entire drive home furiously, red in the face, veins throbbing, blaming the result on an, “incompetent,” referee.

There comes a time when a ref owes an official explanation of a decision they have made. And believe it or not, there is a person designated to demand that explanation; the head coach.

Not the players, not the student section, not dad, not mom, especially not the camera man, and not anyone but the one and only head coach. If you are not the head coach, settle down a little bit.

One of my favorite things to see is both sides of a venue mercilessly voicing displeasure over the way a game is called. I am standing on one sideline, so I can only hear that side clearly.

But when the far side screams something at an official, the near side will scoff at how foolish those idiots over there are, right before taking a deep breath and pulling the trigger on an equally absurd statement.

Believe me. You sound exactly like those folks on the other side. You aren’t any more holy, or clever.

Take it from a truly impartial observer, you sound ridiculous when you let the ref have it. And by, “it,” I mean one of a million clichés.

One of the best ref clichés is, “Call It Both Ways.” I get what it means when you break down the English. It is a call for consistency. And because being judged as consistent is the highest praise an official can receive, to be inconsistent must be the biggest putdown.

The problem is, “Call It Both Ways,” has been used so much that it has completely lost all of its meaning. It is simply a vibrating pocket of air. The public release of this phrase should be considered as socially unacceptable as the public release of a similar pocket of air from the other end of the human body.

To give you an idea of how much brain activity that goes into, “Call It Both Ways,” I can, and will always, be able to point to this year’s 5A state championship basketball tournament in Topeka. After hearing a fan say, “Call It Both Ways,” for the 734^th time, my curiosity got the better of me. I gathered all my strength and strained to make the tremendous effort it took to shift my gaze to the scoreboard.

The call in question evened up the team fouls at 5-5.

“Call It Both Ways,” indeed.

Another of these clichés is, “How Much Are They Paying You.” This one can take many different forms, but the implication here is that one team or the other has paid off an official in order to get them to throw the game.

Because, even in these hard times, nothing is more lucrative than putting on a striped shirt and fixing high school sporting events.

Exactly how do these transactions go down? Is there a secret exchange of briefcases? Maybe it takes place in a secret mowed clearing in the middle of a wheat field. Are there codes and secret handshakes?

Perhaps there is an underground bidding war before the season starts in a bunker underneath a football field somewhere. I wonder what kinds of precautions are taken to ensure no one is tailed.

Or, are you trying to say that a coach or athletic director has slipped an official a five, 10, or even 20 dollar bill just before the game?

Just right out in the light of day?

I know you are risking your ability to ever officiate again, but here’s 10 bucks. Go get yourself a nice cheeseburger after the game.

Then there is the good old, “What Game Are You Watching.” If the referees are in possession of technology that allows them to be secretly watching TV from the inside of their glasses or contact lenses, I want it! If they are unwilling to share it with me, the least they could do is give me some score updates.

Come on guys, a little common courtesy.

They could be listening to another game on the radio through an ear bud with the wires strategically hidden underneath the striped shirts.

But that wouldn’t be watching another game at all would it. And besides, AM reception inside a gym is tough to come by.

How about keeping it simple with a, “You Have Got To Be Kidding Me.”

Ah ha ha! You should see the look on your face! I got you good! No, but really, there is no foul on the play. I was just razzing you.

Let the game be the game. If a call doesn’t go your way, it is up to the players to pick themselves up and take it out of the official’s hands.