Recently, I received a plea from the National Association of Sports Officials, a mass mailout to those of us who have, over the years, picked up whistle, or a chest protector, or a set of penalty cards: officials, umpires, referees, judges. You know who we are. We have uniforms that identify us as the people who make sure games and matches are orderly, fair, and safe for the participants and fans.

These jobs have never been easy. In fact, I just read a story about gladiator battles in ancient Rome, and it seems archeologists have found evidence that those furious brawls were indeed kept in check by referees in white togas, arbiters who, no doubt, didn’t always please the fans and felt the collective wrath of coliseum crowds.

Let me mention here that I was a sports official for four decades. While I mostly served on amateur baseball and football fields, over the years I worked basketball, soccer, and ice hockey games, as well. I’ve been called names and screamed at, nose-to-nose on occasion. I’ve been threatened. I’ve been heartily booed by fans, and periodically required a police escort to my car. I’ve always understood that this is all part of the job.

However, the derision aimed at officials in the last few decades has accelerated at a frightening pace. In a 2019 NASO study, 53% of youth sports officials admitted to feeling unsafe or being threatened while working a game. When these moments happen, officials are expected to refrain from harsh, antagonistic, or violent responses. We cannot strike back if we’ve been hit. We cannot swear or speak in an aggressive way. At all times we are expected to be the “adults in the room,” even when there is the threat of bodily harm.

But the anger and violence has gotten so out of hand that states have been considering legislation to protect umpires and referees. Kansas House Bill 2520 failed in its effort to increase the penalty for assault and battery against sports officials in 2020, but a similar bill in Ohio did increase the penalties for such crimes last year.

You are probably wondering why you should care. I’ll let Ohio State Representative Joe Miller, a sports official of 20 years, explain.

“This legislation is vitally important to protect sports officials in Ohio and to ensure that we are able to recruit and retain the next generation of umpires and referees,” Miller said. “That is why it is imperative for us to maintain a safe and welcoming environment for everyone involved. Ohio needs to do more to protect our officials, and avoid this looming crisis before referee shortages become a major obstacle in the future.” 

Sadly, the “future” is here. According to the National Federation of State High School Associations, 80% of high school officials are now quitting before their third year, mostly because of the ongoing abuse, which has now spread off the field to the Internet, where parents and social media trolls continue the attacks.

So I ask you, what will you do when you get the kids or grandkids all amped up for their game, dress them in their uniforms, take them to the field, and no officials appear? I have often felt that is the only moment anyone cares about those of us in stripes, because there is no game without us. Headlines all over the country are now pointing out that contests are being cancelled because there aren’t enough officials to go around.

What can we do? Fans, parents, and coaches need to lighten up, especially when we’re dealing with high school and youth sports? Please remember that the vast majority of children will never be college, Olympic, or professional athletes. They play sports to learn life skills and to be happy, successful adults. Your bad behavior in the stands is not helping and it could lead to a lack of competitive opportunities if there’s no one around to yell, “Play Ball!”

I must also place blame on the officiating associations themselves: the local groups that recruit, train, and assign sports officials, because you too are partly to blame for the shortage of officials. You don’t do a very good job of enticing half the population to pick up a whistle. I’m talking, of course, about recruiting women. I’ve called games in six states over 40 years, and I never felt accepted by many of my peers and was quite aware there were men who refused to work with me. As one of my supervisors pointed out, “You might get somewhere if you officiated girls sports.” That I happened to love football and baseball was not important. As a woman officiating boys sports I was a freak and, four decades later, that perception hasn’t changed. The sports world is missing out on millions of recruits with the good-old-boy attitude that still prevails in officiating.

We can do better, people. Fans, parents, coaches, players, and local associations can all work together to make the turf more hospitable for officials. And let’s do this quickly or someday you might be wistfully telling your children about the games we used to play.

Ancient ruins, haunted memories, and a ruthless criminal combine with a touch of mystic presence in this taut mystery about a crime we all must address.

THE CASTLE

Anne Montgomery

Contemporary Women’s Fiction/Suspense

TouchPoint Press

September 13, 2021

Maggie, a National Park Ranger of Native American descent, is back at The Castle—a six-hundred-year-old pueblo carved into a limestone cliff in Arizona’s Verde Valley. Maggie, who suffers from depression, has been through several traumas: the gang rape she suffered while in the Coast Guard, the sudden death of her ten-year-old son, and a suicide attempt.

One evening, she chases a young Native American boy through the park and gasps as he climbs the face of The Castle cliff and disappears into the pueblo. When searchers find no child, Maggie’s friends believe she’s suffering from depression-induced hallucinations.

Maggie has several men in her life. The baker, newcomer Jim Casey, who always greets her with a warm smile and pink boxes filled with sweet delicacies. Brett Collins, a scuba diver who is doing scientific studies in Montezuma Well, a dangerous cylindrical depression that houses strange creatures found nowhere else on Earth. Dave, an amiable waiter with whom she’s had a one-night stand, and her new boss Glen.

One of these men is a serial rapist and Maggie is his next target. In a thrilling and terrifying denouement, Maggie faces her rapist and conquers her worst fears once and for all.

REVIEW COPIES OF THE CASTLE AVAILABLE UPON REQUEST

Also available on NetGalley

Contact: Chelsea Pieper, Publicity Manager, Media Liaison

Review/interview requests: media@touchpointpress.com

Get your copy here

Recently, former NFL cheerleaders for what is today the Washington Football Club filed a complaint about what they called secretly-shot nude pictures. (The photos came to light during the investigation into now disgraced former Las Vegas Raiders coach Jon Gruden.) The women are angry because the pictures, which were taken during a swimsuit shoot, were distributed to league personnel via e-mail.

I immediately wondered what a photographer was doing in a changing room. After all, how else would these naked pictures have been captured? No one has explained, so I will leave it alone.

My next thought was how, in 2021, do we still have cheerleaders. And I don’t just mean at the professional sports level. I’m talking about college, high school, and youth-sports cheerleaders.

I can now see you pro-cheer types leaping from your chairs, but please stop hyper-ventilating and give me a moment to explain.

I have a couple of complaints. One is how sexualized cheerleaders have become. I suppose if you’re an adult and you want to shake your barely-covered body in front of a crowd of screaming fans you have that right. But when I consider girls performing this way, I’m disturbed. Even worse is watching the sideline mommies grinning at their little darlings during Pop Warner football games as seven-year-olds shake their non-existent boobs and bend over, bouncing up and down, putting their baby bottoms on full display. I have watched these women and believe they are the female equivalent of the rabid, youth–football dad. You know, the one who got cut from his freshman team and is now living vicariously through Junior. Same with the women. They probably never made the cheer squad and are counting on their daughters to do it for them. Yes, I sound harsh. But that’s the way I feel.

Who am I to complain, you ask? I spent four decades officiating youth and high school football games, another 15 as a sports reporter at both the local and national levels, and 20 years as a high school teacher. I’ve seen cheerleaders perform all along the way, and I always had the same thought. “Geez, ladies, can’t you find something better to do?”

Because I don’t want to come off completely one-sided, I popped on my reporter’s cap and did a little investigating to see if my beliefs are unfounded. I read one article that said cheerleading is good for girls because cheer builds self-esteem and performance skills and is good exercise. Okay, but all sports provide these benefits. Still, while I do realize that high school associations across the country have identified cheer as a competitive sport, I just don’t buy it.

The problem, of course, is girls standing on the sidelines. It’s not like we’re still pre-Title IX, the 1972 statute that required all educational institutions that received federal funds to provide equal access to sports and activities for girls. In olden times, perhaps cheerleading was all that was available, but that’s no longer the case. And in 2021 should young ladies be doing nothing but rooting for boys to win? (Yes, I understand cheerleaders sometimes appear at girls sports, but that is not the norm.)

Now, let’s look again at those who cheer at professional games. They are, not surprisingly, beautiful women, because who among us would want to squeeze into those tiny, revealing costumes if we didn’t look nice? And that’s the part that worries me. Are little girls drawn to cheerleading because they get to look pretty when they’re out there shaking what they’ve got? All bows and makeup and sparkles? I find the idea sad and as far from sports as one can get.

In my world an athlete plays her heart out, sweats, gets dirty and scraped up, then walks off the field messy-headed and happy, knowing she did her best. The girls who remain on the sideline reapplying lipgloss and checking those false eyelashes will never understand. So come on, ladies. Take a chance. It’s time to step over the line.

And to the women who are still shaking their bodies at pro events, time is cruel in regard to our looks. I hope you’re all currently working on plan B.

Ancient ruins, haunted memories, and a ruthless criminal combine with a touch of mystic presence in this taut mystery about a crime we all must address.

THE CASTLE

Anne Montgomery

Contemporary Women’s Fiction/Suspense

TouchPoint Press

September 13, 2021

Maggie, a National Park Ranger of Native American descent, is back at The Castle—a six-hundred-year-old pueblo carved into a limestone cliff in Arizona’s Verde Valley. Maggie, who suffers from depression, has been through several traumas: the gang rape she suffered while in the Coast Guard, the sudden death of her ten-year-old son, and a suicide attempt.

One evening, she chases a young Native American boy through the park and gasps as he climbs the face of The Castle cliff and disappears into the pueblo. When searchers find no child, Maggie’s friends believe she’s suffering from depression-induced hallucinations.

Maggie has several men in her life. The baker, newcomer Jim Casey, who always greets her with a warm smile and pink boxes filled with sweet delicacies. Brett Collins, a scuba diver who is doing scientific studies in Montezuma Well, a dangerous cylindrical depression that houses strange creatures found nowhere else on Earth. Dave, an amiable waiter with whom she’s had a one-night stand, and her new boss Glen.

One of these men is a serial rapist and Maggie is his next target.

In a thrilling and terrifying denouement, Maggie faces her rapist and conquers her worst fears once and for all.

REVIEW COPIES OF THE CASTLE AVAILABLE UPON REQUEST

Also available on NetGalley

Contact: Chelsea Pieper, Publicity Manager, Media Liaison

Review/interview requests: media@touchpointpress.com

Get your copy here

I have been home recovering from Covid and a broken ankle that required surgery for over a month now. I’m not used to shuffling from bed to chair and back again as the main events of my day, but I’m unable to walk and so that’s simply the way it is now and will be for a few more months.

That said, there are aspects of my current existence that have taken me by surprise. The biggest being Daytime TV. I have rarely glimpsed this slice of life, aside from streaming newscasts and weekend football games. But that’s not what I’m talking about. It’s the endless array of “talk shows” that blare at me in strange and awkward ways.

Many of these programs have big panels of participants, which are almost exclusively women. (Why is that?) Sometimes six hosts share their thoughts, occasionally all at the same time. As a former news anchor, I find all that talking over one another jarring, but that’s not what bothers me the most. It’s the topics they discuss that have me reaching for the remote.

“If your boyfriend has cheated on you consistently over the years, should you stay with your man?”

Now, in my mind, this should be a very short segment: No!

“Serial plastic surgery. Can you have too much?”

Yes! When your skin is as tight as a Barbie doll’s and you constantly look surprised, maybe you should break up with your surgeon.

Some shows focus breathlessly on what “famous” folks are doing in their personal lives. Who was seen stepping out on their spouse. Who wore a designer outfit worth mocking. Who got a horrible haircut and had the “courage” to go out in public. I should mention here that I rarely know who these celebrities are. That either means I’m old and out of touch or the people under discussion are of the D-list variety. As I read the paper and watch various news shows daily, I’m going with the latter.

I do find some of these guests unintentionally hilarious. Actors or musicians few have ever heard of droning on about the “importance of my craft” and how “It’s so difficult be famous.” Oh, the paparazzi! The horror!

And let’s not forget shows like Dr. Phil who never met a familial car-wreck he didn’t drool over like a hungry hyena. How do they get these miserable people in front of a TV camera and a live audience? What type of person wants to plop themselves into a seat on stage where they will mostly be ridiculed for being dopes? I am truly baffled here. Sometimes, I think they must be actors. Actually, that’s far easier to believe than the alternative: that they are real people with big problems who think sharing them on national TV will solve their issues. Really?

I was also surprised to see that soap operas are still in favor. I tried to picture who might actually tune into these vapid tales of overdressed, bored-looking, mostly upper-crust people, none of whom are happy with their partners, jobs, homes, or families. Mommies, maybe, who are folding yet another basket of laundry and wondering where the romance in their lives skedaddled to. That many of the characters seem good-looking and financially well-off is a stumper. Are their lives really all that dreary?

As you might expect, I constantly flip through the stations, hoping something palatable will appear unexpectedly. To stop my brain from turning to mush, I check the news, but the local shows routinely let me down. I used to teach my students that the definition of a news story was something of interest to the general public and an event that was relatively rare. Alternately, fluff pieces—kitties rescued from a drain pipe, babies dressed up in sports-themed clothing, dog-costume contests—were once reserved for the very end of the broadcast, a time-filler to make it to the break. But today, these stories appear at regular intervals throughout the “news”. Why? Are they afraid real news will frighten viewers off? Have station consultants determined that the average viewer is not smart enough to understand real news?

Or perhaps members of the viewing public are simply not interested in knowing what’s really happening in the world. And maybe that’s the answer as to why Daytime TV flourishes. It’s an escape from everything even remotely real. A diversion from why life didn’t turn out the way we’d hoped. Cotton candy for the brain: sickly sweet and sticky, stifling our ability to think clearly.

So, I’m turning off the TV now. There must be something better to do.

Ancient ruins, haunted memories, and a ruthless criminal combine with a touch of mystic presence in this taut mystery about a crime we all must address.

THE CASTLE

Anne Montgomery

Contemporary Women’s Fiction/Suspense

TouchPoint Press

September 13, 2021

Maggie, a National Park Ranger of Native American descent, is back at The Castle—a six-hundred-year-old pueblo carved into a limestone cliff in Arizona’s Verde Valley. Maggie, who suffers from depression, has been through several traumas: the gang rape she suffered while in the Coast Guard, the sudden death of her ten-year-old son, and a suicide attempt.

One evening, she chases a young Native American boy through the park and gasps as he climbs the face of The Castle cliff and disappears into the pueblo. When searchers find no child, Maggie’s friends believe she’s suffering from depression-induced hallucinations.

Maggie has several men in her life. The baker, newcomer Jim Casey, who always greets her with a warm smile and pink boxes filled with sweet delicacies. Brett Collins, a scuba diver who is doing scientific studies in Montezuma Well, a dangerous cylindrical depression that houses strange creatures found nowhere else on Earth. Dave, an amiable waiter with whom she’s had a one-night stand, and her new boss Glen.

One of these men is a serial rapist and Maggie is his next target.

In a thrilling and terrifying denouement, Maggie faces her rapist and conquers her worst fears once and for all.

REVIEW COPIES OF THE CASTLE AVAILABLE UPON REQUEST

Also available on NetGalley

Contact: Chelsea Pieper, Publicity Manager, Media Liaison

Review/interview requests: media@touchpointpress.com

Get your copy here

Facebook is in trouble, once again. This time the social media giant is being blamed for hurting the self-esteem of young girls by allowing them to see posts including beautiful people—you know, those glamorous and perfectly proportioned folks who are so very different from most of us.

Here’s the thing. While I understand that popular social media sites are programmed to make us click until our fingers fall off, can we really blame Mark Zuckerberg and his buddies for making teenage girls feel inadequate? In my humble opinion, no, we cannot.

First let’s hop into the Wayback Machine. In 1959, the Mattel Toy Company unleashed a doll that was, well, perfect. Her dress size, even before such a thing actually appeared on a label, was 0. Her measurements stacked up—and you may take that term literally—to 35-22-32. Classic top-heavy hourglass with an oh-so-tiny waist and long, perfect legs with feet made only for high heels, because flats would never do for a girl like her.

When I was first handed that bubble-headed blonde Barbie, I was a heavy-set elementary school kid, built like an over-stuffed sausage.  As a fifth-grader, my dress size exceeded 14, so I was shoved through the doors of Lane Bryant’s, the first department store to cater to plus-size women and girls. My mother was appalled by my physique and told anyone who would listen that I wasn’t fat because of her. She fed me salad with no dressing and baked fish and policed my every move in the kitchen. No, my round shape was NOT HER FAULT!

I do believe my mom gave me that Barbie to give me an example of what I should look like.  I remember peeling the clothes off that piece of plastic perfection and studying that breast-waist-hip ratio from every possible angle. After glancing at my naked self in the mirror, it took me an instant to realize that Barbie and I just weren’t going to be friends. I tossed her aside, called my dog, and went to play in the woods.

Barbie, no doubt, had millions of young girls scrutinizing her curves and making unhappy comparisons to their own bodies. So, where was the hue and cry for our self-esteem? How come no one asked if I was depressed comparing myself to a hunk of top-heavy plastic?  The doll, which  generated gross sales of 1.35 billion dollars in 2020 alone, is today said to be the best-selling toy of all time. Imagine then the number of adolescent girls affected by all those curves over the last seventy-odd years.

I know what you’re thinking. “Geez, Anne, what does this have to do with Facebook and Instagram and all those other social media sites that are upsetting our children?”

Well, I’m saying we should place the blame where it’s due. And that is squarely on the shoulders of parents. It’s Mom and Dad who should make some rules. No cellphone or tablet that has the capacity to go online until kids are 16. Check the social media sites your children are frequenting and shut them down if they’re offensive or disturbing. Keep an eye out for bullying behaviors, overuse of filters, and creeps who are probably not what they’re pretending to be. Then, set an example. Talk to your kids without having your hand on your phone and one eye on the screen. Let them see that electronics are not the center of the universe. And above all talk to your kids about everything so you can nip dangerous behaviors in the bud.

As a former teacher of twenty years, I hope you understand that adults in the classroom are doing their best to deal with personal issues kids face, but we are not their parents. You are. So stop blaming Facebook and Twitter and Instagram. Be the adult in the room. Lay down some rules and stick to them.

Your child’s well-being depends on it.

Ancient ruins, haunted memories, and a ruthless criminal combine with a touch of mystic presence in this taut mystery about a crime we all must address.

THE CASTLE

Anne Montgomery

Contemporary Women’s Fiction/Suspense

TouchPoint Press

September 13, 2021

Maggie, a National Park Ranger of Native American descent, is back at The Castle—a six-hundred-year-old pueblo carved into a limestone cliff in Arizona’s Verde Valley. Maggie, who suffers from depression, has been through several traumas: the gang rape she suffered while in the Coast Guard, the sudden death of her ten-year-old son, and a suicide attempt.

One evening, she chases a young Native American boy through the park and gasps as he climbs the face of The Castle cliff and disappears into the pueblo. When searchers find no child, Maggie’s friends believe she’s suffering from depression-induced hallucinations.

Maggie has several men in her life. The baker, newcomer Jim Casey, who always greets her with a warm smile and pink boxes filled with sweet delicacies. Brett Collins, a scuba diver who is doing scientific studies in Montezuma Well, a dangerous cylindrical depression that houses strange creatures found nowhere else on Earth. Dave, an amiable waiter with whom she’s had a one-night stand, and her new boss Glen.

One of these men is a serial rapist and Maggie is his next target.

In a thrilling and terrifying denouement, Maggie faces her rapist and conquers her worst fears once and for all.

REVIEW COPIES OF THE CASTLE AVAILABLE UPON REQUEST

Also available on NetGalley

Contact: Chelsea Pieper, Publicity Manager, Media Liaison

Review/interview requests: media@touchpointpress.com

Get your copy here

My 96-year old mother has been reading multiple papers daily for decades. She reads everything and never fails to always peruse the obituaries, a habit I had never acquired, until recently.

So, let me say that I find obits strange. First, no one is ever bad once they’re dead. I like truth and I think it’s fair to point out that someone was a horse’s ass in life. I mean, why not? Who are we protecting? The person, after all, is dead. They’re not sitting at the breakfast table scanning the obituaries to see what others think of them. So, wouldn’t telling the truth about Uncle Bob—he was a miserable, cheating alcoholic who beat his wife and terrorized his family—be therapeutic? But we never do that. History tells us that the idea that one shouldn’t denigrate the dead goes back almost 2000 years, but curiously there is no explanation as to why.

I do find it interesting how many ways people say someone died: He moved on, went to heaven on the wings of angels, was called home, left this earthly plane, passed peacefully, though that one always has me asking how they knew the deceased settled easily into death. Maybe he was raging against the dying of the light, after all.  

I realize that family members of the deceased are often tasked with writing obituaries. According to Legacy.com, “Writing an obituary can feel daunting. You may feel overwhelmed by the responsibility of writing about a loved one who has died. Or you may worry that you’ll forget important facts or that the obituary won’t fully capture your loved one’s life. This is one reason why many families begin preparing the obituary in advance.” 

I like that idea, and so, apparently, does my mother. She has penned her own obit and I’m sure wants no revisions from the family. (As those who know Mary Anne can attest, she’s not one to be trifled with.) That said, my recent brush with Covid had me considering what my own obit might say. As a former journalist—one from olden times when reporters would never consider picking sides—I offer the truth.

Obituary

Anne Butler Montgomery

Anne had a fabulously interesting life where things didn’t always go as planned. Sometimes she succeeded. Sometimes she failed, periodically in spectacular fashion. She was driven and stubborn and opinionated. (The latter of which she blamed on her mother.) She tried to do the right thing when facing important decisions, though sometimes the right thing remained elusive. She could be awfully sarcastic and was surprised when she became a teacher to learn that sarcasm was not appropriate where children were concerned. No, she wasn’t always nice, but in later years she worked hard to improve her sweetness factor. She loved music, wild places, rocks, officiating sports, and animals of all kinds. She relished food, wine, good company, books, and movies. Anne wishes that you hoist an adult libation in her honor whenever you choose. And she would appreciate it if her friends and loved ones would sprinkle her ashes wherever they see fit. If that’s in the kitty litter, so be it.

So, let’s start a trend. Let’s tell the truth about ourselves and ask others to do the same. With that in mind, what would you say about you?

Ancient ruins, haunted memories, and a ruthless criminal combine with a touch of mystic presence in this taut mystery about a crime we all must address.

THE CASTLE

Anne Montgomery

Contemporary Women’s Fiction/Suspense

TouchPoint Press

September 13, 2021

Maggie, a National Park Ranger of Native American descent, is back at The Castle—a six-hundred-year-old pueblo carved into a limestone cliff in Arizona’s Verde Valley. Maggie, who suffers from depression, has been through several traumas: the gang rape she suffered while in the Coast Guard, the sudden death of her ten-year-old son, and a suicide attempt.

One evening, she chases a young Native American boy through the park and gasps as he climbs the face of The Castle cliff and disappears into the pueblo. When searchers find no child, Maggie’s friends believe she’s suffering from depression-induced hallucinations.

Maggie has several men in her life. The baker, newcomer Jim Casey, who always greets her with a warm smile and pink boxes filled with sweet delicacies. Brett Collins, a scuba diver who is doing scientific studies in Montezuma Well, a dangerous cylindrical depression that houses strange creatures found nowhere else on Earth. Dave, an amiable waiter with whom she’s had a one-night stand, and her new boss Glen.

One of these men is a serial rapist and Maggie is his next target.

In a thrilling and terrifying denouement, Maggie faces her rapist and conquers her worst fears once and for all.

REVIEW COPIES OF THE CASTLE AVAILABLE UPON REQUEST

Also available on NetGalley

Contact: Chelsea Pieper, Publicity Manager, Media Liaison

Review/interview requests: media@touchpointpress.com

Get your copy here