I woke up with a sore throat the other day.

鈥淕reat,鈥� I thought. 鈥淚鈥檓 catching that cold that鈥檚 going around.鈥�

Nope.

I figured out what had happened as soon as I tried to speak.

Being a remarkable athlete, I knew I had injured myself at a basketball game.

Except it wasn鈥檛 in the way you might think. Rather, I got 鈥榙inged up鈥� from my position in the corner of the elementary school gym, sitting in my special, brought-from-home chair.

That鈥檚 right, I remained sore in the voicebox region for a few days because I found myself reflexively yelling during the course of play.

Not the good, encouraging yelling either.

It was a Grade 7 boys playoff semifinal.

Normally, I鈥檇 watch any game involving kids, even playoff contests with family members involved, with a quiet detachment.

鈥淵ell encouragement, whisper constructive criticism鈥� was always a personal mantra when I was coaching.

鈥淒on鈥檛 yell at the officials,鈥� was another.

Obviously, the first was easier for a reformed competitive freak than the second, but it wasn鈥檛 really too difficult.

In this particular game, there were two excellent, seasoned refs. Which was fantastic, but rare, at that level.

Mostly it was just coaches or other volunteers stepping in, so you knew all kinds of theoretical violations were going to go uncalled.

And again at that level, some of the players might not yet have a firm grasp on all the rules, so you have to let a lot of stuff go.

But this time it was great and kids learn very quickly. There were calls for moving picks, carrying the ball, backcourt violations, lane violations on free throws and more.

Many drew quizzical looks from the players, but I thought it was terrific. The refs still allowed some things to slide, to ensure there was at least some flow to the game, but it was definitely called closer to how it should be all the time.

Except鈥� there was one player on the 鈥榦ther鈥� team who travelled (took too many steps without dribbling) every single time he had the ball.

With the time running down in a one-point game, he got the ball. He then travelled 鈥� and scored.

I felt the guttural yell begin deep down and there was no stopping it.

鈥淗e WALKED!!!!!!鈥� I bellowed, surprising myself with my personal volume. I quickly recovered my composure and followed by muttering 鈥渆very time鈥� under my breath.

Fortunately, there was a lot of screaming and cheering after the basket, so my outburst was slightly muffled.

But it was still way too loud.

I immediately felt a scratch in my throat, having not used my voice like that in forever. I thought nothing of it until the penalty arrived the next morning via the annoying pain.

I have since tried to reason with myself, pointing out I wasn鈥檛 really screaming at the refs, just loudly noting a violation to myself, only some extra sound escaped.

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I understand the compulsion to yell at game officials, specially at the higher levels of sport.

But I learned a very valuable lesson as a teenager that鈥檚 stuck with me for decades.

When I was a kid, the televised baseball game of the week often seemed to feature managers like Billy Martin kicking dirt on umps or Earl Weaver turning various shades of red as he argued vociferously and profanely.

I thought that鈥檚 how it was done.

So when I was asked to help manage a Little League team, I figured I鈥檇 show my stuff.

First game, there was a play at the plate. I thought our guy was safe, the ump called him out.

I sprinted out of the dugout, full of piss and vinegar, and stated (I鈥檓 paraphrasing): 鈥渉e was safe, how could you miss that?鈥�

The wise old ump put his hand on my shoulder and said 鈥渨alk with me.鈥�

We went down the first base line, where no one could really hear us and he said: 鈥渟on, you鈥檙e embarrassing yourself. These are just kids out here having fun. I鈥檓 doing the best I can. Let鈥檚 make sure we set an example for them.鈥�

Chastened, I slunk back to the dugout. I never forgot that moment.

During many years coaching a variety of sports, I often had parents and players sign a code of conduct that specifically dealt with proper treatment of game officials.

Refereeing myself and covering the sports beat for many years as well, I saw all kinds of abuse of officials. It was foul.

Moms screaming vulgarities my buddies and I wouldn鈥檛 have used privately in the dressing room. One adult locked a teen ref in an official鈥檚 room. I saw a parent run out onto the field during a baseball game and attack an umpire. I鈥檝e seen parents screaming at refs during a game with six-year-olds playing with mini nets. Insanity.

If you鈥檙e at a kid鈥檚 game, please don鈥檛 yell at the refs.

It鈥檚 just dumb.

A sore throat should be the most minimal of punishments.

PQB News/Vancouver Island Daily editor Philip Wolf welcomes your questions, comments or story ideas. He can be reached by phone at 250-905-0019 or by email at philip.wolf@blackpress.ca.