The glaring example of the sad state of MLS referee quality was shown to the world in the game on Saturday. This poster on the BigSoccer board said it best.
In more ways than one. After the ejection, it's clear that the Revs players said some things to The Ego with Stripes while gesticulating to the replay board. Apparently piqued, he then made it a point to show everyone who The Man in charge was. The rest of the way was a litany of tick-tack fouls, pointless whistles, needless posturing, frequent lecturing to the players, and a general inattentiveness to details of the game.
Unfortunately, he made twenty-one players and 15-20K fans suffer for his self-esteem problem. Just the kind of guy who should not be officiating a big league professional game. There's only so many ways you can spell A-S-S.
The game report is posted on boston.com
I think I telegraph my feelings after a Revs match when I enter the house.
Sunday, as usual was biking day. I chose to ride with the Appalachian Mountain Club group. A glorious day for a bike ride. Temp in the mid 70's, no wind or traffic. The route took us through the quaint village of Marion Ma.
We saw some very different homes like this one overlooking the harbor.
The town grade school that reminded me of the opening credits of Dragnet. I can picture Sgt. Friday walking up to the building. Dum... de dum dum.
While riding through the center of town we heard bagpipes and turned back to see what was going on. There were two, greeting people as they entered a pretty neat building. We figured some kind of brunch or ceremony was in progress. My guess was some kind of anniversary party. One rider guessed a service of some kind and the others just wanted to move on.
From the town center we peddaled to Point Rd, the other side of Sippican Harbor. Kittansett golf course where members pay thousands of dollars to join. Then an annual membership fee. To golf on one course. They could buy a limo, hire a driver and travel to much better courses for a lot less money.
While there we rode onto Planters Island. We saw this sign but figured bike riders are not tresspassers. We were only passing through.
Twenty two miles from homeport I got a flat. Three of us worked quickly to replace the tube. While pumping up the new tube I could hear the air escaping. While I took that tire off, one of my riding partners was patching the first tube. When we put that one in, the same results, pssssssst.
I called home for the "sagwagon". The sag wagon is what they use in races to pick up the riders who cannot keep up for whatever reason. If the wagon catchs up to you, your done.
Naturally according to Murphys Law, she was out. I called Brandon, and he agreed to pick me up. I did have to listen to his mother in the background, making comments and getting a good laugh. I told him to tell her that I would order sattelite TV, so I could watch her on the Comedy Channel, she is soooo funny.
Out of my last six rides, I had to be picked up four times. Something was definitely wrong. The well trained and professional "wrench" at Village Cycle in Westport, found a tiny pebble under the rim strip, which when the tube heated and expanded (like after 20 miles of riding), caused it to spring a leak.
Problem solved with a new tube installed, and 2 spares. (Just in case)
The weekend began with a piss poor ref throwing a game, and ended with a tripple flat tire bike ride. But the middle part was fun.