Well, it's been a quiet week in Harrisburg, my hometown.

The recreational youth soccer season is finally winding down after a number of rainouts.  I have been mostly an AR (assistant referee or linesman) on high school games this fall and haven't had a chance to be the center referee on youth matches until this past week or so.

I centered a wonderful U14 girls rec game Monday night.  Pizza Ranch was undefeated and Wells Fargo only had one loss.  They played one of the best rec games I've ever been associated with.  Excellent passing, good ball skills, fine coaching, and excellent sportsmanship.  I got nailed in the head during a dropped ball, which sent my glasses flying and bent the heck out of my frames.  I was woozy for a bit as I stumbled back up the field.  Then I got nailed in the leg and pulled a muscle.  But I kept going because the kids were playing their hearts out.  This is why I love soccer.

Pizza Ranch won 1-0 on a late second half goal.  It was exciting, well-played soccer.

And this is why I don't like soccer, at least as a referee--some of the parents.  Some of the comments I hear about me and my official colleagues are crude and rude--and often just plain stupid.  Some folks insist on not learning about the rules of soccer and how the game is played. 

But I will give the doorknobs who hurl insults at us wearers of the black kneesocks some credit.  Unlike commenters on blogs who are completely hidden and anonymous, it does take some small amount of chutzpah to make an arse out of yourself in front players, coaches, other parents, and assorted others.  At least there is no mistaking who your critic is, unlike many blog commenters. 

Once in a while, however, a comment from the peanut gallery gets my attention.  My favorite line this year was during a U14 boys club game at the Yankton tournament this summer where I was a center:  "Hey grandpa, get your head in the game!"

While I'm not the oldest ref out there, I am one of the older refs.  And I could technically be a grandfather and probably will be someday, I've never thought of myself as an old codger.  And the person who yelled this at me was in their 30s.

I thought it was pretty funny.  Like some of the Duke University students' insults at Cameron Indoor Stadium, at least it was creative.

On the other hand, while an AR at the state tournament in Aberdeen a couple of weeks ago, I overhead a conversation behind me. 

"They called something like too many fouls and a yellow card on my kid in the last game," a man from Sioux Falls Christian said.  "I've never heard of that."

I turned briefly and said, "Sir, that's called persistent infringement."  I was just trying to be helpful and teach the game. 

To which the man replied, "Now I suppose you'll insert yourself in this game and ruin it too."

Classy!

Don't cry for me, Argentina or KELOLAND.  I have a pretty think skin while out on the pitch.  But there's no reason to be a jerk.  It is the kids who get it best, like those young ladies on the Wells Fargo and Pizza Ranch teams who played the Beautiful Game beautifully.

That's the news from Harrisburg, where all the men are interested in the high school football playoffs, the women are wrapped in blankets while in the stadium, and all the children in shinguards dream of being Landon Donovan.