Reflections of a retired official

My job is over... officially.
*snicker*

I just thought I'd take some time to reflect on the good times and the whimsical times and the times that made me want to punch somebody. We'll start with some of my favorite quotes from the intramural participants:

"Are you kidding me?"
(This is what I would say in my head to respond to this frequent question)
"Yes, I am kidding you. Let me just take that call back, because my job is just one big joke, and when I blow my whistle, it's just for fun... really."

"Hey, I know you guys are calling it fair, but call it both ways, ok."
(Again, my imagined response)
"Did you hear what you just said?"

"We're losing because of the refs!" (paraphrased)
This was said by a team that had only 4 players and lost by about 25 points. After this and several other uncalled for comments, the player was yellow carded and the game ended prematurely.

"What are your names?" (from a disgruntled player)
"My name is Todd Martin, I work for Emily Andrews in 145 RB. You can reach her from 10-5 on any weekday." That wasn't an imagined response.

"Double-you tee EFF!!!" (from one of the fans)
This one was hilarious for some reason to me. Have you ever seen an official burst out in laughter in the middle of a game?

"If there is contact, is that not a foul?"
"If your question is any more loaded, will it make a difference?" (My imagined response for the infinity times this question was posed)

Then there was the time where I called a "pantsing" foul on the guy who pulled down the pants of his defender to get open. Good times.

Then we have those classic instances where a team in desperation throws off one last hail-mary in the football game, which quickly becomes anybody's ball and as such there is a collision of half a dozen players going for the horrible pass. Afterward, the offensive players get up and stare at you waiting for a PI call to bail them out of their bad decisions. Nope... then you become responsible for their loss. Jon knows what I'm talking about.
And then in basketball, a player makes a ridiculous drive to the basket, loses balance and maybe grazes off an established defender or two, falls on the ground and, wait for it... yup there it is, the accusatory stare at you for not calling a foul. As a result, his man is left undefended and therefore gets an easy drive to the basket. Sweet justice.

One of my last games I reffed last night was 9 on 9 football. One team told me three or four times to watch for the split (a type of illegal rush when a defensive player runs between two offensive players less than a yard apart). Frankly, I can't call a split when the rushers are going around their players. Of course, I understand why they wanted it. One of the rushers was a girl. Ya, the only girl in the whole league. She must have got like five sacks that game, so of course, something about the rush had to be illegitimate. Of course! Later on the captain of the losing team found me in the hall of the RB and thanked me for throwing away the game for them. "No problem, any time!" That wasn't an imagined response either.

And I wrote about my last basketball game experience. Boy, when I called that foul, the crowd erupted to rival anything I've ever seen in the Marriot Center... or Minute Maid Park for that matter. All four of the players on that team were up in my face. Was I 100% sure that was a foul? No... Did I know there was only .3 seconds left on the clock? No... Am I glad I called that foul? Sure! We didn't have to go into overtime!

And so ends my career of dealing with poor sports, sore losers, whiners, egos, smart aleks, brawlers, and the occasional grateful saint who realized what you did was keep order in the game. Well, it may not be the final end of such, I could see myself coming back... but not for a while. The hours are just preventing me from doing so much I want to do, and this remains the principle reason why I won't be back next fall as an intramural referee.