Consequences

 So, maybe you read this in the Fort Wayne Journal Gazette yesterday. If you didn't, you ought to.

Read it slowly. Read it carefully. Then read it again.

This especially applies to those of you who are parents, and who think your little Johnny is the next LeBron or Patrick Mahomes or Mike Trout.

See, little Johnny just turned 5. He plays tee ball/biddy basketball/peewee football. He's batting .500 this year on running to first instead of third when he hits the ball. His last jump shot, from two feet away, came thisclose to brushing the bottom of the net. And the last time they let him carry the football, oversized helmet wobbling atop his head like a bowling ball on a pencil, he fell down as soon as he bumped into one of his linemen.

But, you know, he's gonna be a star.

The Blob has a message for you: No, he's not. He's just a kid. So sit down, shut up and quit screaming at the poor guy calling the game. Not waiting for him in the parking lot so you can punch him would be nice, too.

Because, see, if you read the aforementioned JG story, you know what all that has wrought. You know your actions have consequences.

More and more, as the story makes clear, you're driving officials out of high school and youth sports -- so much so, that games are being cancelled because sometimes there are no officials available to officiate them. And the biggest reason officials who no longer officiate give for quitting is the abuse they get from parents and coaches.

So if little Johnny shows up for his next game, and it's canceled because there are no officials, you know who to blame. He/she is in your mirror.

It's gotten so bad these days that last year, in Kentucky, the police had to be called because parents got into a brawl over an umpire's call. In a freaking tee-ball game. Hell, the ump was probably a kid himself.

Don't know what happened to the ump in question. But if he said "That's it, I'm done" and hung up his blues, who could blame him?

It doesn't seem like a big ask to expect alleged grownups to behave like grownups at their kids' games, but apparently it's a bridge too far these days. Delusion and invented grievance being what they are in 2022 -- damn near a national epidemic in certain notorious precincts -- they've filtered down to youth sports, apparently. And thus a few reminders are called for.

Coaches, this ain't the World Series/Super Bowl/NBA Finals, and you ain't Joe Torre/Andy Reid/Gregg Popovich. It's a bunch of little kids running around thinking about ice cream later, and you're just a guy whose day job is cranking out radials at the local Goodyear plant. Calm your ass down.

And parents?

Little Johnny's standing on second right now, staring out toward center field and daydreaming about who knows what. The ump doesn't have it in for him. The ump's just trying to make a few bucks at his summer job. So calm your asses down, too.

Shake your head and laugh at your goofy kid. Cheer when appropriate. Hell, think about ice cream. 

Either that, or live with the consequences. And you know what those are now.