if you can't beat 'em...
last night i put on my game face, donned the stripes of an elite rank, and... ref'd dodgeball. yes, that's right, i'm officially an official for dodgeball. turns out that i'm a better ref than i am participant, i think mostly because i'm throwing people (out) rather than a ball (poorly). a friend of mine who happens to ref for a few sports around town mentioned that they needed the help, so i said that i had some free time on thursday nights. normally, my dodgeball games are on thursdays, but i figured they'd throw me in next season. nope. next thing i knew, i was assigned to 2 games and my too-small stripes were waiting for me at the rec center.
i had to negotiate with the other ref for the easier teams, due mostly to my lack of experience, but also with a hefty dose of fear that i was going to get jumped in the parking lot if i made a bad call for one of the crazy-serious teams. by the time i was done with the second game, i actually had players coming up to thank me for being fair, and loud (ha!) and for sticking to my calls. i was shocked, as my flaming red blushing cheeks indicated. for once, it seemed that my insides (mostly screaming "i don't know what the hell i'm doing!") didn't translate to my outsides (mostly screaming "mind the stripes!" and "hey, i got a whistle!").
current mood: that's right, i make things happen