Just a Game

They were just kids, for Christ's sake. Kids playing a game. When he agreed to referee the matches for the under twelve league, he thought it would be fun. He hadn't counted on the parents.

He'd heard about sports parents...the ones who lived out their dreams through their kids, the ones who didn't treat the sport as a game. The ones who got upset and yelled. The ones who got in fights with other parents and with the referees. He'd heard about them, but he'd never had to deal with one before.

He realized he had a problem the first time he reprimanded the kid for making a slide tackle. The kid...and the kid's coach...knew slide tackles weren't allowed in the under twelve league. The coach apologized, the kid didn't, and the kid's father shouted insults. A short time later when the kid did it again, he had no choice but to eject him from the match.

What else was he to do? He was the referee; he had to look out for the safety of the other kids. He started to explain it to the kid's father, but the guy wouldn't listen. The father gave him a shove. He stumbled backwards over the ball and fell, hitting the back of his neck on the bucket full of iced bottles of water.

It didn't hurt. It just surprised him. He couldn't understand why he wasn't able to move his arms or legs. The kid's father was still angry, still shouting. He wanted to tell the man that it was just a game. It was just a game and they were just kids.