wenty-six seconds — that's all that was between me and a cold, post-game beverage when the doggy-doo hit the fan.

Today ain't yesterday

Before the game, one of my younger, keener linesmen wanted me to know what I was getting into.

"Are you sure you want to referee this one? Want me to do it?" he asked. I envied his over-enthusiasm, but I assured him I could handle it. Before making a comeback this year, it had been years since I refereed. Nobody knew that better than I. But back then I had also handled Junior, Senior, and key playoff games — at all levels.

I was pretty sure I could handle a Bantam house league game, even if the visiting team's coaches had a reputation for being mouthy and their team a reputation for being chippy.

My plan was to clamp down early, to let them know I wouldn't put up with any of that stuff. To my surprise, I didn't need to. The game went along relatively quietly, until 26 seconds were all that remained of this 3-3 game.

Continued...