My Wife Should Referee the Super Bowl


My Wife Should Referee the Super Bowl. That fight at the end of the game, my wife’s penalty for Seattle—50 yards.

Now I know there is a rule book, but with my wife as the referee, new rules apply.

We are normally college football TVers, but there were some good commercials, and a game happened to be played in-between.

With my wife as the head official, the game would have been even longer than it was, and meant another $20 or $30 million of commercials.

All of that show-off on the field, my wife would have been in the players’ faces. While taking them aside, and with the point of her index finger on the point of their noses, and while they stared cross-eyed at her finger, she’d have lectured them about how she was sure their mommas didn’t raise them like that.

And that while a ton of humanity piled on during a tackle, my wife would have been pulling them off, and having one of the officials tally up the excessive tackle-weight penalty. Each guy she pulled off the pile, would have gotten like a five or seven yard penalty, and the guy who actually made the tackle would have been assessed a 20-yard penalty. The net result totaling a 93 yard penalty, which means the ball instead of being on the offense’s 3-yard line wound up on the defense’s 4-yard line.

I pity the poor defensive back who held a receiver. My wife would have called for a replay four times on the big screen to shame the defender about what he did, while she was marching off a 27-yard penalty.

I have no doubt my wife would not have liked the entire happenings on the field at some point, and sent all the players to the sidelines. The only two people left eligible to play on either side would have been the guys who were guarding the footballs, and they weren’t even players.

Those ridiculous zebra-stripes officials wear, forget it. The NFL will pay for a shopping trip to New York for the all-woman officiating crew. By the way, to complement the new outfits, those custom-made shoes will be fashionable.

That five yard penalty for off-sides where the guy actually hit an offensive lineman. Under my wife’s rules, that’s a 17 1-2 yard penalty.

At another point in the game when the offense was driving, she would have told them they couldn’t stop the game to run commercials, that she was going ahead with the game, and they could just tape that portion of the game while TV fans were watching the commercials, and show that portion on TV after the game was over.

All the players face her for inspection before the game. If they hadn’t cut their hair or shaved, back to the locker room. If they didn’t comply with her requirements when they came out for her to give them a second look, they didn’t play in the game.

The coaches would not have been able to go over their defenses and offenses during halftime, because my wife would have brought both teams together for a peace conference to see if they couldn’t get along better the second half.

And at the end of the game, when twenty policemen were escorting my wife off the field, she would have been asking, ‘Why are all these people mad at me?”



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