It must have been a long bus ride home for the Choate Varsity football team two Saturdays ago. An 11-8 loss to Phillips Andover, a Choate victory only inches away, and the question of what should have been unresolved. Fifty seconds remaining, third and goal from the one; off-tackle run. He’s in! No, the refs say he’s down, two inches away.Thirty seconds left, fourth and goal. Pitch left. He’s in!! No,there’s a flag. Holding against Choate, repeat the down from the eleven. Ten seconds. Pass left into the endzone. The ball’s there. The receiver’s there. He’s tangled up by the defender. Incomplete. No pass interference called. Game over. Andover wins. And, fury erupts in the Choate stands. First, the boys were brilliant. They played hard, gave it their all, and should be proud of their effort. Their parents, on the other hand, should be ashamed. Bad calls by the refs? I thought so. It felt like victory had been snatched away. Yet, the vitriol and venom spewed forth, flowing from the parents onto the field. And, as the players lined up, these sage words were screamed above the rest. “Don’t even shake their hands. Don’t even shake their hands. Don’t even shake their hands”. And, they echoed as I left. Not a proud moment, I’m afraid.
