Replacing the replacements

Hello folks, let’s chat…Well, I was just about to suggest we take a national timeout, and no, I’m not talking about the Presidential election, although that’s a stellar idea, too. I was about to suggest that everybody and their mamas take a break from bashing the NFL replacement referees— and then they went and replaced the replacements.

“I don’t get it,” I’d been saying to Bubba, who’s fighting depression over the slow start of our beloved Saints, “So they missed a couple calls, affecting the outcome of a few games which could determine league rankings, impact playoff positions and kill untold Super Bowl dreams.” Yeah, that’s where I lost him, too. But come on, y’all. It’s not like the real refs never miss a call. They’re just more confident, that’s all. I knew there’d be trouble for the replacement refs when the camera zoomed in for a close up on The Call That Sparked a Thousand Sports Columns. I was trying to read their lips as they stood there frozen, all straddle-legged. I’m pretty sure they were saying,

“I’m not gonna call it, you call it.”
“I’m not gonna call it.”
“Let’s get Mikey. He’ll call anything!”

Honestly, I felt sorry for ‘em. They knew they were on thin ice. Look how they reported their calls when they faced the stands and spoke into their mikes. “Holding, kinda sorta, defense; his number’s not that important. We could tell he didn’t mean it so we penalized him five yards and told him not to do it again.”

Granted, there were too many reviews. They were just trying to get it right, which will force me to tell one story from my own coaching days. During a super close playoff game the ball sailed out of bounds with seconds to go. The gym erupted as both teams claimed possession. All eyes turned to the referee. The nervous novice crossed his arms, pointing to the left end of the gym with his right hand and the right end with his left.

He was serious, God love him, which is just as well. It wasn’t funny at the time. Now that I think about it, it’s still not. But I’m over it. Kinda sorta.

Hugs,
Shellie