Mud

I had my first foul-weather game today.

It was sprinkling on and off for most of the day, and by game time we had a slow drizzle.  It wasn't cold, so I made everyone wear short-sleeve shirts. 

And then it started to rain harder.  By about four minutes into the game, it was raining pretty good and my crewmates were less-than-happy with my choice of attire.  But it wasn't cold out, just very wet; and we were going to get wet even in long sleeves.

The ball was wet.  We were wet.  The field was muddy.  But it wasn't cold.  It was a beautiful day for football.

In the second quarter there was a run up the middle for a modest gain.  Players were piled up, legs and feet and arms everywhere, and I moved in to voice that everyone needed to take it easy, watch their legs, get up slowly.  While I'm looking at the pile and using my Referee Voice, out of nowhere I got smacked in the head with the ball.

Some kid decided to be helpful and toss me the ball.  Only problem was that I wasn't looking for it and never saw it coming.

You know that spiffy white hat that referee's wear during a game . . . yeah, not so much anymore.