The Referee
by Terri Kirby Erickson
In memory of my father, Tom Kirby, 1934 – 2019
How long ago it seems when my middle-aged
father stood in our living room, practicing his
moves. He had a test to pass, signals to learn.
I sat on the couch, holding the local high school
football referee handbook, calling out words like:
delay of game, pass interference, and personal
foul. I would make up ways for him to memorize
motions, like naming one signal the two-handled
teapot and yet another, the back off, buddy. He
would work through the whole list after spending
eight hours at his day job. Still, I, a teenager who
had no knowledge of paying bills and feeding the
family, found it funny to see my father, once he
aced the test, wearing his new uniform—the stiff
white pants, his striped shirt, the shrill whistle that
hung around his neck. But I loved the hours we
spent together, laughing—how there was this thing
his daughter could do for him instead of the other
way around. Although I never saw my father on
the field, I can picture him there, his face lit by the
stadium lights as teams of fierce young men zoomed
back and forth across the yard lines, fans cheering
or jeering from the bleachers when Dad turned into
a two-handled teapot, full to the brim with fair play.
Terri Kirby Erickson is the author of six full-length collections of poetry, including A Sun Inside My Chest, winner of the 2021 International Book Award for Poetry. Her work has appeared in “American Life in Poetry,” The Sun, The Writer’s Almanac, and many others. Her awards include the Joy Harjo Poetry Prize and a Nautilus Silver Book Award. She lives in North Carolina with her husband and his extensive collection of Loudmouth golf pants.