To the editor:

This submission is something that’s been percolating with me for a long time. I wish I’d started a journal to chronicle my experiences as a referee, primarily officiating basketball, but baseball and football stories exist. Living with a 350-word constraint in my letter writing, I’ll have to report my anecdote carefully. I could write a book. I still might.

After 17 mostly uneventful contests to start this season, I had been lulled into a self-satisfied state and was happy about how my games had gone.

At halftime of a 7-3 game recently, I was targeted by a frustrated, ignorant grandfather, perhaps great-grandfather, who indelicately barked at me and informed me that I needed to “even things up.” I laughed at him. He indignantly responded, “You’re gonna laugh at me?” Indeed, I continued to laugh as I headed to my seat in front of the scorers’ table.

The score was 7-3, and the halftime foul totals were four fouls for each team.

I had no further incident with this elderly, partisan fanatic; however, my partner was abusively asked, “How much are you getting paid?” I don’t think he was considering to start a GoFundMe page to augment our game fee. As a matter of fact, I think he was insinuating that whatever we were being paid was way too much. He didn’t specify his motivation for asking the question.

Grandpa Basketball left after the first game. The second game went off without incident. After the second game, a fan from the visiting school was waiting for me at the scorers’ table. He apologized for what he’d heard from Grandpa Basketball. He thanked us and said that we’d done a good job. I get a lot of that.

It’s sad that some people’s lives are so miserable that they have to live vicariously through a junior high athlete’s basketball game.

He’s lucky that I didn’t yell back at him. I’ve done that. He’s lucky I didn’t officiate the second half sitting beside him. I’ve done that too.

Grow up, Grandpa. People are watching.

Keith R. Klawitter

Morgan