Last week started with a story about the 1997 rain and flood and the game we couldn’t get to.

I’ll start this week’s column with a game the very next Friday.

The game was at Hemlock against neighboring rival Saginaw Swan Valley. It was Hemlock’s homecoming game.

Now, I need to fill you in on some personal details that made that night even more interesting.

I drove to the game alone. I was a member of a barbershop chorus, and the next day there was a competition in Kalamazoo, about three hours away. My wife went with friends and I was to drive directly from the game and meet her in Kalamazoo, hopefully arriving about 1 or 1:30 a.m.

I met the crew in Hemlock and, about 20 minutes before the game, the entire east bank of field lights went out.

After inspection, it was determined that the previous week’s rain had so saturated the ground that the underground wiring had shorted out. There was no way the lights were going to be functioning for the game, and it was too dark to try to play the game only using the lights on one side of the field.

The athletic directors of the two schools met and decided to move the game 10 miles east to the Swan Valley field. So teams, officials, queens, floats, et. al. made the 10-mile drive and we played the game at Swan Valley.

Of course, moving the game took well over an hour to both make the decision and get all of the moving done and get the Swan Valley field ready. So I arrived in Kalamazoo to meet my frantic wife somewhere in the neighborhood of 3 a.m. Of course, again, with no cell phones back then, there was no way I could let her know of the situation.

Reverting back to one of my first columns … officials’ wives put up with a whole lot from us officials.

A football officiating experience not to be missed was refereeing junior high football in the city of Saginaw.

It had nothing to do with the kids, coaches, or quality of the play, but just that none of the fields had scoreboards or game clocks.

Now, the “proper” and “official” way to time a game with no scoreboard clock is for one official, usually the umpire, to try to officiate and also use a stopwatch to do the timing (like trying to herd cats).

Think about it. You have a whistle in your mouth, you might need to toss a penalty flag, you might have to pull a bean bag from your belt to make a spot, all the while watching the play, looking for penalties, AND keeping time on a stopwatch.

Ha, Ha.

What we did was use a wristwatch and play “running time.” We never told the coaches. We used 15 minutes per quarter (by rule, a quarter for junior high was eight minutes) and we figured the extra seven minutes on the watch would approximate the proper length of a quarter with the normal clock stoppages.

We would signal clock stoppages, winding the clock and all the proper signals. They just didn’t mean anything. The only time we would diverge from that was during the last two minutes of each half. Then, the ref with the watch would actually watch the second hand and notify coaches of time remaining.

I don’t think any coach ever discovered how we were timing their games.

I probably should save this story for my final football column, but I have room for it here and it is a short story.

Our Alpena-based crew included Terry King, Roger Wenzel, Scott McKenzie, myself, and I can’t remember the fifth member (maybe John Anderson). We had the second-round playoff game at Essexville Garber against Saginaw Swan Valley. The Swan Valley sideline was loudly complaining the entire game. So this play and the eventual confirmation of our call made it even more satisfying:

I was the back judge. Garber threw a long pass. The pass was a bit overthrown and the receiver laid out to try to make the reception. The ball hit the palm of the outstretched hand of the receiver and bounced up in the air. The receiver landed on the ground with this arm outstretched, palm up. The ball came down and appeared to hit the receiver’s palm that was resting on the ground and bounced up again. The receiver reached up and caught the ball.

Line judge, Roger, came running over, yelling, “I didn’t see the ball touch the ground.”

I replied, “Neither did I, good catch.”

We both make “catch” signals, indicating a completed pass.

That happened right in front of the Swan Valley bench, and they erupted, yelling their displeasure at the call.

Well, a week later, I got an email from another official who worked with us often, a veteran official, Mike Grulke. Attached to the email was the WNEM-TV sportscast showing the “Play of the Week.”

There was our pass play, in slow motion. They ran it over and over. We were correct, the ball never hit the ground.

I love it when we get it correct.

Les Miller, of Hubbard Lake, has retired after 53 years officiating multiple sports around Michigan. He can be reached at theoldref@yahoo.com.