Five Best of the First Five Years: Week of the Living Wingnuts (2005)
I've worked 645 [as of when this was written] regulation USSF games so far in my career- that doesn't count indoor, unaffiliated, or high school, which means I've seen a lot of stuff - some good, some bad, and some so bad that it's funny when you first look at it, then sad when you think of the broader implications. Take this, a U9 game where an adult gets so into the game that he makes a scene in front of his child (or grandchild). It's the epidomy of what's wrong with sports today; at that age (well, any age really, but that age in particular) it shouldn't matter what the refs do, or even how the kids do on the field - the idea should be that they have fun, and learn something positive from play. He shouldn't have to learn that, "My dad can't control his temper." It makes me shudder to think what he's like at home.Week of the Living Wingnuts
Something is most definitely in the water this week, because I've got people in both of my jobs going nuts over stupid things. With the job, it's not just stupid things, but things that are absolutely impossible to put one-and-one together to make a duce; but they rant rave, and insist, and I charge them $150 an hour for it (it's actually not as good as it seems, because I end up having to neglect my other clients just to placate these bozos).
I was asked by my assignor to help out on a game today; it was right before my scheduled game, at an adjacent field, I had a short drive and I'm usually very early anyway. I've heard it's really bad manners (and signs of a terminal ego problem) to turn down games because they're "beneath" you; and I figured, hey, a U9 would be fun, especially after the last game.
Unfortunately for me, there were major similarities. Fortunately, it involved a parent, not the coaches - and in this game even the coaches were on my side. How can you screw up this game? The kids don't know, let alone are cynical enough, to foul - I think there were a pair where a kid's eyes were so focused on where they were going that they didn't realize they just plowed over their opponent. If there's any such thing as a milk run for an adult referee, this is it.
In this case, the antagonist was a rather large male, either a father or grandfather, who fancied himself a coach rather than a spectator. He was loud, obnoxious, condescending to his peers, and thought he could be an AR while in a lawn chair Can you just see my eyes rolling, even though the text? I thought so.
So in the second half he wanted a corner kick because he thought the goalkeeper touched the ball - he didn't - he pulled up and didn't come within two feet of touching the ball.
"Jesus! What kind of call are you making?" The refs for my second game heard him 150 yards away. Now before I go further, let me just say that while coaches can get under my skin, parents just amuse me - they could say the exact same things, and I'll have totally different reactions to it; I think that's because I hold coaches to a higher standard), even if they fail repeatedly (I'd love to see a study that shows the decline of behavior in soccer linked to the inclusion of coaches on the field, because I bet it's true). Fans, especially American fans, are just ignorant of the game, and just make for good entertainment.
However, he was swearing loudly in the presence is eight-year-olds, and I can't ignore that. So I turn, say, "Hey, I'm a little closer to the play than you, let's cut down on the language" - I'm trying to assert my authority and be diplomatic at the same time, but it didn't work. He picked up his lawn chair, threw it, thankfully, straight down onto the ground, then stormed off to the parking lot, hooting and hollering the whole time.
Then the really funny bit: He comes back onto the field, wearing a different shirt as if he's trying to sneak back in, so he could complain to the coach of his team! First, I didn't even throw it him; and second, like anyone with the build and weight of a
I chatted with that coach for a few minutes after the game (it was all I had, as I had to literally run to the next game), and she didn't understand his fit, either. It was their first game, she didn't know him, and she said that she appreciated my actions, because most of the time they get kids only a few years older than their players doing these games. I asked if, since I'd only done two of this age group in five years, if I missed stuff, if I had misjudged how tight I should call the game, or whatever, and the answer was no, I hadn't. It turns out that he's merely your stereotypical Ugly American, yelling, screaming, frothing at the mouth about a game he's never played or even watched - someone who thinks he can do in a chair what others need run for, even though if you painted him a single color, he'd look just like a gum drop.
The 15 boys game, which I was scheduled to line for, was a more difficult game, but very one sided. How one sided? For the majority of the second half, the goalkeeper hung out inside the center circle. The other team's defense was just too winded after the first twenty minutes to put up any kind of fight, even if they wanted to.
Hopefully the rest of this week will even out a bit.