Here are a few more basketball stories that might entertain or amuse you.

Since Epiphany (Jan. 6) was last Monday, I’ll start with a game that happened on Epiphany.

How do I remember what night it was? A couple from our church always had an Epiphany house party, and Julie and I were always invited. I had a contract for the Bridgeport/Midland Dow junior varsity game, and, since Bridgeport was only 20 minutes from home, I knew I would have time to do the game and get home for the party.

As I left for the game, it started to snow. I got to the game and my partner did not show up (that guy was never very dependable, so I wasn’t shocked).

I refereed the first half of the game alone. Thank God I was young at the time and the coaches were great. I never heard one complaint.

At the half, one of the varsity officials arrived and said that, if we could delay the start of the second half long enough for him to get dressed, he would work with me so I would not have to work the second half alone.

Whew. Thanks.

With about two minutes remaining in the JV game, we had a time-out called.

The Bridgeport athletic director, Jim, came over to me and my partner.

He said, “There has been an accident in the snow on I-75 and the other varsity official got caught in the traffic tie-up. He heard on the radio that the game had been canceled because of the weather and went home. Les, can you stay and work the varsity game, too?”

I replied, “On two conditions: I rolled my ankle in the first half. I need a trainer to tape it up before game two. And also, I need someone to call my wife and tell her I will be late.”

Jim agreed.

I got taped and worked the varsity game, too. I even got home in time to make it to the party, albeit a bit late.

Another game I remember (and have told the story many times) because of events both during and especially after the game:

It was a middle school game between Ottawa and Chippewa, two schools in the district where I taught.

The Ottawa gym was not built for games with spectators, so there were only a few chairs for seating, and they were crowded at the edges of the court.

There was one fan/dad who was very loud and obnoxious all during the game. Late in the game, there was a collision on the floor, and a player on “dad’s” team was slightly injured.

The cause of the collision that resulted in the injury was a teammate of the injured player, but dad didn’t know or care. Dad went berserk, yelling and swearing on the sidelines because we didn’t call a foul.

Now, I, being a teacher in the district, not only knew both of the school principals (one was my golf partner in the faculty league) but also knew exactly where they were standing in the gym.

I called time-out and went over to Bob and Terry and told them that they had to remove that person from the facility.

Well, they got him out of the gym with difficulty, but he refused to leave the building and remained in the hallway.

After the game, my partner and I had to walk past him on the way to our locker room, and he continued to verbally abuse us. We found out later that he continued his tirade, and another dad confronted the loudmouth and, after some harsh words, asked him if he wanted to step outside and settle things.

The loudmouth said, “Let’s go,” and went out the door first, and dad No. 2 pulled the door shut from the inside, locking Mr. Loudmouth outside in the cold.

I assume he “cooled off.”

Here is a favorite memory of me NOT calling a technical foul on a coach:

It was a JV boy’s game at St. Peter and Paul High School.

The coach of SSPP came off the bench and onto the court, screaming at me.

I just ignored him.

Later, I was asked why I didn’t call a well-deserved technical foul on him.

I said, “I know Coach Tom. He teaches in our district, and he is very calm and reserved. When he got that angry and came onto the court, I knew that I must have missed a call, badly. I wasn’t going to make things worse by calling the T.”

Thirty years later, Coach Tom’s wife is a customer of my wife’s Mary Kay business, and Tom and I see each other often and laugh about the incident.

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