I hate refs. Hate them. I have never felt more passionate disdain for a certain species — and refs are arguably the lowest species on the face of the earth, just below amoebas — than that of which I feel for those devils in stripes.
My god. Did you see what they did to the Husky football team on Saturday? Did you see that? That was the true definition of injustice. Granted, there were other things the Huskies could have done to ensure victory — like play a little defense and cleanly field kickoffs, for starters — but there is absolutely no denying that the referees impacted the outcome of Nebraska’s victory over Washington.
Credit the Cornhuskers for taking advantage of afforded opportunities. Every time your opponent gets dicked by poor officiating, it’s up to you to capitalize on the moment. The refs opened the door for Big Red, and Big Red responded by walking right in.
While the Big 10 officiating crew that presided over the Washington-Nebraska game managed to wrongfully call three kick-catch interference penalties on the Dawgs, it was kick-catch interference penalty No. 1 which arguably stood out the most. It was this phantom call that set the tone for the other two, and likewise changed the mentality of a Huskies’ ballclub that held all the momentum prior to that pivotal moment.
Perhaps even more egregious than the call itself, though, was the reaction of the officials. After they were given a chance to review video of the play during intermission, the crew returned in the third quarter with an emboldened stance on their blatant blunder. As ABC sideline reporter Heather Cox informed the viewing audience, the officials emerged “very adamant” that they had made the right call.
This is why I f**king hate officials. Because they happen to be the least accountable individuals in the entire world. They can screw up time and again with little to no consequence.
On top of that, I hate the arguments made by those who defend officials. “They’re human,” they say. Human. Human. Imagine if every time you f**ked up at work, you could just pull that excuse out of your ass and everything would be okay.
“Johnson! We lost our biggest account and you’ve been late every single day this week! Not only that, but I’ve heard rumors that you were spotted screwing your secretary on our brand new copy machine! What do you have to say for yourself?”
“Uh, well…while all that may be true, boss, the fact is…I’m human.”
“Oh, well. Okay then, Johnson. My apologies. Didn’t mean to interrupt your day. Back to work!”
You see! It’s ridiculous! We can’t use that BS excuse, so why can they? Yes, we’re all human. Yes, we all make mistakes. But you know what? Most of us are held accountable for our mistakes. That’s the difference.
On top of that, I hate sympathy towards officials. There are too many people out there who act like these miserable stiffs put on the stripes because they have to. Like, they couldn’t get a job anywhere else, so they were forced to become referees. Lo and behold the poor ref, everyone. Turned down by McDonald’s, Wal-Mart, and 7-11, he succumbed to a lousy job market and took a job as an official. How bad it must feel to be him.
No! NO, NO, NO! Fact is, these bastards signed up for this role. They did this by choice. And you know why? Because they enjoy the feeling of power they have over other people’s lives. Just like the president of your homeowner’s association, the meter maid, or the 5-foot-6-inch male police officer. Somewhere in their past, they endured some sort of slight or taunt that turned them into an obsessive control freak. And in developing this enormous insecurity about their own pathetic existence, they decided they’d take it out on the world. At which point they went out and bought their first whistle. They will never, ever admit to this. But you know it’s true.
Finally, I’d like to take a brief moment to recognize that very special individual who’s saying to him or herself right now, “Hey, douche, quit crying about the refs.”
First of all, there’s a very distinct difference between crying about the refs and hating them with every fiber of your being. Anyone can cry about the refs. Anyone can whine. Anyone can tell you how much they might suck from time to time. Most people can’t pledge 1,000 words to their abysmal wretchedness. So that’s one.
Secondly, you are an enormous hypocrite. You are. And I’ll tell you why. Because even you — yes, you, you perfect son of a bitch — have lamented a blown call at least once in your life. That puts you on par with all the rest of us who might be a little ticked off that our team had one or more opportunities stolen from its grasp because of the ineptitude of an official. And when I say “ineptitude,” know that I mean it in a very distinct way. For some officials, ineptitude may be permanent. They may be failures of life. There’s nothing they can do about it. They’re just cursed or something. For others, ineptitude may be fleeting. Maybe they screw up one out of every one-thousand times. That one time, that one error, is an example of temporary ineptitude. So the description, however harsh it may seem, is fitting. Whether you like it or not.
I hate refs. I hated them prior to Saturday. I hated them on Saturday. I hate them now. If you are unlike me (and I don’t blame you if you are, I’m very bitter about officials), let me promise you one thing:
There will come a time when your team is playing a game and a call gets blown. You will react angrily. It’s human nature. You will try to cool yourself, fight your natural impulses. You may or may not succeed. But for that period of time where you’re upset and ready to punch the guy who just stole your happiness, remember this article. This article, this author, we are your dark side. You are Anakin Skywalker. You can be Darth Vader. Do the right thing and give in.