Sunday, July 4, 2010

Who’d be a Ref?


I’m not a special fan of football. But I did stay up to watch NZ doing itself well at the FIFA World Cup Games. And I’m partly watching a semi-final right now. But, on balance, since being turned into an edocrinological girl by Zoladex, I think I’d rather watch netball. At least the scores are usually higher.
In both sports, the role of the referee or umpire is critical. That’s to say, everyone is critical. The players don’t like your decisions. The crowd always have a better view than you. And FIFA itself will drum you out of the Brownies if you make a real idiot of yourself. It must be a thankless task to make instant judgments and award a penalty or hold up a yellow card. Especially since, if you didn’t see anything naughty then, apparently, it never happened.
I’m glad that there isn’t a ref looking over my shoulder moment by moment and day by day. I’m glad that my fumbles, stumbles and trip-ups are not under summary judgment the instant they happen.
But, hey, wait a minute. What am I saying? Of course everything I say and do is under judgment. All the time.
How well have I educated the ref that is in me?

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