hile I'm not someone you might consider squeamish — anyone who's ever unflinchingly witnessed pigs being castrated can hardly be considered thus — one of the most gruesome sights I as an official ever saw was something that happened to another official.

It was a BC Hockey League game two seasons ago. The referee and my line partner were both regulars in the Western Hockey League, so they were not exactly ill-prepared for the pace of Junior A hockey.

With roughly 12 minutes remaining in the first period, a Prince George defenceman drilled the puck into the South Surrey zone. The shoot-in was high. How high? High enough to catch my line partner in the side of the head. He went down in a heap, naturally, and we stopped play.

Continued...