Blog Archives

The Lingering Suspicion, by Sivan Pillai

31/3/2022

The mound of soil with flowers on it indicated where she lay.
All mourners had left. I was about to leave when Robert approached. He was wearing a black-and-white umpire's striped shirt, hurrying from some match nearby.
Both of us were Sarah's lovers, but she had finally chosen me.
"Knowing your aversion to pets, she had given me her pet dog as a parting gift. The other night she had come to have a look at it."
I didn't tell him it was an overdose of sleeping pills that had killed her after a heated argument about her nocturnal visit.

When the Wind Speaks, by Angela Carlton

31/3/2022

The wind spoke to me, whipping around when you were on the field reminding me of your strength. It continued to shine. You were my high-school sweetheart, but I got lost with that tough, handsome guy in college, didn’t I, without thinking.
I didn’t know he would be self-absorbed, cruel.

We have a toddler now, on the turf, you, the referee. Yes, you saw me in the stands. You were good with him, full of spirit, patient, the way you were with me.

One Tuesday, I caught your eye, the sun was setting low in the sky. Everything melted.

The End Is Near, by Peter Burr

30/3/2022

At the imposing prison door, Andrew beamed. Dressed as a football referee, cap and all, he clenched his fist over his head, signifying fourth down. “Welcome Andrew Siderius team” said the sign in front of the metal detector.

“There’s almost no time left,” Andrew said. “Will you punt or go for it?”

One of the lonely men said, “didn’t we already make our choice?”

“Our finish is what counts,” Andrew said. “It doesn’t need to be perfect---no Hail Mary necessary. The judge in the upstairs booth will review our final plays and give us the benefit from every angle.”

Game On, by Marjan Sierhuis

30/3/2022

The sun peeks out behind the clouds. A hush falls over the crowd when the referee starts to speak. They lean forward in their seats and listen intently. Their love and support always give him immense satisfaction.

He raises an arm, and grins from ear to ear.

“Greetings.” “I hope you enjoy the game,” he says in a calm and friendly voice.

Behind home plate, his family beams with pride as he turns and heads onto the field.

A Little Girl's Sad Wish, by Meredith Chiwenkpe Asuru

30/3/2022

When she opened the door and saw it was her little girl, she hugged her tightly. "Wait. Where is aunt Maggie?"
"Mu....m, can we go in first?"
Inside, she pegged her. "Go freshen up, I am serving soup in thirty."
After she had dressed the table, she hurried to her room. "Baby," she called as she opened the door to find her crying, a photo held against her bosom. She walked to her and drew her into a warm embrace. "I miss him too."
"But mum, can't I have another dad"
"You can sweet, mum is getting married soon."

On the Threshold, by Ana Marie Dollano

30/3/2022

The sun was low with a fiery orange glow.The wind had sprung from the west and blew warm against my skin. I gazed up to the cheerful chorus of songbirds as they wheeled across the dusking skies.

Were they singing songs of praise, saying their evening prayers or welcoming me? I smiled. Suddenly the leaves of the trees fluttered in shades of crimson and amber. I watched as it tumbled in the earthy breeze, flurried on the stony ground, and crackled and crunched at my feet.

Arriving at the radiant gateway, I donned my old cap.

Here I come!

Tomorrow's Zoo, by Kim Favors

29/3/2022

“Are these Zebras?”

“No Sweetie, the Zebras died off long ago.”

“Then what are these? They have stripes.”

“They’re Referees — the few who’ve survived. Kind people wanted to protect them and brought them here.”

“Why? Did they do something bad?”

“Referees tried to make sure that everyone was treated fairly and all played by the same rules. Our new leader doesn’t like that. He breaks rules, changes them, then punishes those who object.”

“Then why do Referees wave their fists in the air?”

“Because they want us to keep believing that someday the good guys will win.”

Another Like Me, by Michael Talledes

29/3/2022

Day 464 since my return. The void lingers...

This job surfaces my fears. I can’t smile like them. I don’t know to how talk with them. I don’t feel when they curse at me for making a “wrong call.” This is not the football I once watched and skipped work for. This is a meaningless escape from out there.

In the stands, families come and leave together. But one... Standing firmly, facing me. He does not wave, but salutes. The corners of my lips lift slightly as does my hand. I don’t know him, but he is another like me.

An Umpire's Call, by Charles Gray

29/3/2022

Jack rushed to the highest row of the bleachers and looked over the railing. He waited for the officiating crew to enter the stadium. As they approached, he shouted, “Andy ole pal, remember what we talked about. Don’t be so lenient on those holding penalties. Those Jaguars are cheaters and you know it. Doesn’t that striped shirt mean anything? I got a lot riding on this game. Give me a thumbs up so I know we’re on the same page, buddy.”

Staring down Jack, Andy flaunted an enigmatic smile. Then he raised his fist and stuck out his thumb, sideways.

Vinny and the Bulldog, by Fliss Zakaszewska

29/3/2022

“Vinny, Vinny!” screamed the supporters.

Vincent Hardman, (Newton United) in the explosive derby against Newton Rovers had scored twice and was roaring past defenders for the third, when Rover’s player, ‘Bulldog’ Jones, tackled him ‘energetically’.

When clutching his leg failed to get Jones sent off, Vinny jumped to his feet. “You bastard!” he screamed, punching Bulldog, who obligingly punched back.

The referee pulled them apart; yellow cards for both. “Ref,” wailed Vinny, proceeding to argue.

“Who’s in charge of this match?”

“Neither of us, ref.”

The red card and early bath proved otherwise as Hardman trudged back to the bench.

Foul, by JM Subban

29/3/2022

My eyes stayed on the umpire. I watched his every move, as I had for countless games that he'd officiated.

"My team scored a touchdown," my husband whooped.

I was happy for him, but I never looked away from the man in black and white stripes.

"You know he can't see you, right?"

The man in question raised his fist, a smile pasted on his face. I followed his gaze to his new family, the one for which he'd abandoned me.

Paper Boy Collecting, by Ed York

29/3/2022

I had a paper route while in high school. A customer, Pepper, called my mom saying, “I’m scheduled to pay today, but I have to work overtime. Can I pay later?”

Mom said, “Yes.” She gave me the message.

After I delivered the evening papers. I went by Pepper’s place. She was home. I knocked.

The door flew open. She was in a transparent robe and said, “I’m very horny.” Then pulled my pants off. We were quickly on the carpet where we eagerly engaged in sex.

She said, “That was good! Can you come back tonight?”

“Certainly!”

“Bravo!”

The New Journey, by Padmini Krishnan

28/3/2022

’See you tomorrow, Champ,’’ Emmanuel called out, a slight grudge in his voice.

‘’See you, skipper,’’ Malcom replied as he waved to captain Emmanuel.

Malcolm walked slowly to the locker room, his mind secreting the most important events of his officiating career. Now everything had come to an end.

Malcolm had locked horns with Emmanuel on various occasions. But he had worked really hard for this day. He would make it work. Malcolm’s heart thudded with nervousness and excitement as he looked at his new jersey. This Jersey would mark his new career as a cornerback in Emmanuel’s team.

Success, by Dee Lorraine

28/3/2022

“It took nine years, but we did it, Cole.”

“Nine years and three lab explosions, Samantha.”

“Minor concerns, sweetheart. Think Nobel Prize.”

“I’m thinking sales, licensing agreements, product endorsements, Sam. We’ll make Elon, Jeff, and Bill look like paupers once this gets to market. Make the call.”

“Hello, Winston? Samantha and Cole. We’re ready to apply for the patent. Yes, photo and video proof. Not one drop of sweat, even after he umped a game that went into triple overtime.”

“Who imagined coffee grounds and non-recyclable plastic would make the perfect underarm antiperspirant deodorant? We did.”

“The name? U-Reeka NoMo.”

The Way Time Smells, by Allison Symes

27/3/2022

One whiff of lime cordial whisks me to my Gran’s with her 1970s solitaire table, cards out (heaven help me if I moved anything), and cigarettes on her armchair.

Mum never knew who Gran spoiled most - her poodle or me. I always wore my black and white shirt to Gran’s. She hated the baseball cap, which at least united her and Mum.

Mum poured me umpteen glasses of “cheering” lime cordial after Gran died. It didn’t work.

As I go home, having laid Mum to rest after an impossible dementia battle, I know lime cordial won’t work now either.

Black, White, Red All Over, by Steven Holding

26/3/2022

Like an umpire’s shirt or a zebra’s hide, I dream in black and white. Monochrome mind movies on a secret silver screen.
Here, I’m the hero. Centre stage, righting wrongs, never left behind. No grey areas, just absolutes. Good. Bad. Lies. Truth. Their differences never misunderstood.
Blinking into waking life, I acclimatise to bright sunlight. The sunbeam’s broken, blocked by bars, keyboard shadows thrown across my eyes. The strips match the stripes I wear on the outside.
On the wall, a reminder of lost lives in a newspaper headline.
SISTER KILLED IN CAR CRASH.
My memories are in full colour.

End Game, by Bex Gooding

26/3/2022

Leaning against the wall Flynn made eye contact with the quarterback. Flynn could see that winning the game meant more to the kid than the cash in his locker. Flynn’s job was to kill him if the team won. He felt the switchblade in his pocket and sighed. He’d had enough of this work.

The kid’s team won; the crowd cheered. One of the officials walked by smiling, his hand raised in victory. He’d played a fair game. Flynn was moved and made a decision.

He pushed himself off the wall and walked away. The kid could have his victory.

Axes, by Ricky Monahan Brown

26/3/2022

It looks like a casual snapshot, but I had waited there for hours, taking hundreds of shots. See the perfectly spaced, not quite horizontal lines in the foreground. The image of the friendly umpire bursting through them, having finished imposing order on the gridiron. The not quite vertical stripes of his shirt, humanity not quite shoehorned into systematic coherence.

Yet people don’t study my career-defining photograph for the perfect composition or the shot selection, but for clues to the identity of The Black-Shoed Man, and why on earth he did what he was about to do.

Houston in the Fall, by Jenny Logan

25/3/2022

An odd Bible quote came to mind as he pulled on his cap.
“Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked I shall depart.”
Dapper in his umpire uniform, he smiled to himself.
“Roll on, today’s a great day,” he said to his reflection.
Even thoughts of Job—scratching himself on the ash heap—would not bring him down as he noticed only the sunshine, blooming asters and white-winged doves.
Walking back to the changing room after the first season game, he waved a fist salute to his family, unaware that a photograph was being taken.
[Job 1:21 NIV84]

There He Stands, by Quinn Ponds

25/3/2022

Proud and strong with a sense of ease around him. Arm extended skyward toward the vast blueness that is calling him. He hails them all with a wide grin. Open and understanding, good-natured and appealing. Warm to those who look back upon him with love. He is captured there in time, the black and white of his garb in the colorization of our time. A hold in the memory of all who have known him. There he stands.

Going Places, by Alyce Clark

25/3/2022

“It’s funny how people can surprise you,” the ref thought, smiling, lifting his arm in salute to Joe’s parents, “kid’s special.”

“Underdog,” they said. “Too small for football.”

But he knew better- recognizing talent when he saw it. Joe’s speed was incredible. The way he outmaneuvered the defense. Always landing, then dancing, in the end zone.

And now, Joe, playing a spectacular night in his final game of high school football, is off to college- the recipient of a well-deserved, hard-earned scholarship.

“Yep,” he concludes, facing the stands, Joe’s parents cheering as he exits the field, “this kid’s going places.

The Shirt, by C. J. H. Dickens

25/3/2022

‘Been looking for you.’

Built like a heavyweight boxer, his striped shirt looked two sizes too small. His smile could either have spoken ‘friend’ or ‘I’m going to eat you.’

‘Sorry, sir, I don’t remember,’ I quaked. ‘Did I sell – ?’

‘You sold me this shirt,’ he growled. ‘It’s shrunk.’

‘You followed the washing instructions?’ I asked, retreating slightly.

‘I wash all my clothes the same way. In the bath. Cleans us both together.’

Never argue with a large, angry customer. ‘You’d like a refund, sir?’

‘Not at all,’ he grinned. ‘The shirt fits perfectly now. I wanna buy four more.’

From the Balcony, by Clare Goldfarb

25/3/2022

He’s waving at me. I want to jump over this railing--right into his arms. I’m sure he is going to propose today. How do I know?

Easy. Look at that smile. It’s as if he is saying, “C’mon. As soon as the game is over, I’m all yours.”

That smile got me from the first time I set eyes on him. His folks are across the field. Mine are here behind me, but no family feud is going to keep us apart. He’s my hero, my champion. I’m his Juliet. He’s my Romeo.

Respect, by Jane Bidder

25/3/2022

Curtis fists the air. Grins up at Sick Bay’s windows. A shark’s grin. He knows Reece can’t see him – hell, Reece might even have croaked by now. This display is for the other men in the exercise yard.

His black-and-white striped Trustee’s uniform shouts his superiority over the common, grey-clad herd. The shirt’s like Newkie United’s strip; reminds him of home. The cap… That snivelling turd Reece’s tuneless snigger, ‘Where did you get that hat…’ Unlucky, him falling down the stairs like that.

Curtis saunters across the yard. Men shuffle. Drop their gaze. Mumble ‘Alright, Curtis?’

Respect. It’s his due.

Helpful to Learn, by John M. Carlson

25/3/2022

“You never heard of him?” Bill stared at Greg. “Why, he was just in the news! He was the referee for a big high school football game a few days ago. The two schools are bitter rivals. A call he made literally decided the winner.”

“You know I don’t know anything about sports.”

“It might be helpful to learn something.”

“Why?”

“We are the detectives who have to figure out who killed him.” Bill pointed to the body lying by their feet. “I’m pretty sure it was someone who was unhappy with that call he made during the game!”

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