There's something about some referees and umpires. Even if I'm only watching a game they're officiating - and not actually being severely reprimanded in bygone days by one of them for violent and threatening misconduct and foul and abusive language in the course of, say, an under-12 Minor C table tennis match - they give me the chills.

Maybe it's the uniforms. The hand signals. The shrill blasts of whistles. The goosestepping.

The poking and prodding of the air with their forefingers. The facial expressions that suggest they have a wasp in their mouth, as I've heard Rocky John "Boom Boom" Prescott's mug described this week.

The sadistic pleasure they take in dishing out cards. Their refusal to play enough time until you equalise (ABUs at the back - quiet please). Their finicky adherence/relaxed/ obliviousness to the rules of the game (delete where necessary, depending on the last match you saw).

A fusion of all the human traits that prompt us to groan "uh oh" when we see them approaching. Nightclub bouncers, checkpoint Gardai, traffic wardens and revenue commissioners rolled in to one.

It's that narrowing of the eyes before they deliver their rebuke, that staccato-style, one-jab-in-the-face-for-every-syll-a-ble speech rhythm, all designed to put the fear of God in you. That suspicion that it's all a power trip on their part and they're loving every minute of ruining your sporty life.

The insistence on treating you like a 14-month-old toddler, even if you own a 14month-old toddler. The refusal to take ownership of a sense of humour. The realisation that they were put on this earth for the sole purpose of preventing the rest of us from having some fun.

It's only marginally less worse reporting a referee or umpire's dodgy performance than being at the receiving end of their wrath as a player during a game. They disallow a perfectly good goal.

You approach them after the game and ask for their version of events. They refuse to talk to you because. Because? "Just because". So you write: "the disallowed goal looked suspiciously alright to me". They ring up. "Why didn't you ask ME my opinion after the game, you worthless, low-life toe-rag."

Then they'll say: "I do this for nothing, I give up my free time, I make sacrifices for this sport, I am an amateur, I deserve support". And you'll say "absol-uuutely, and we all appreciate that - but the players and coaches also do it for nothing, give up their free time, make sacrifices for this sport, are amateurs and deserve support . . . . and perhaps umpires/referees who know the rules?"

WELL, that does it. Never, ever, ever again will a "howarya" be returned before or after a game. Never. Ever. They'd rather goosestep under a bus than exchange pleasantries. Right then, fair enough, if that's how you want it - it's war. But, well, then you talk to Dutch umpire Renee Cohen. And then you concede: Hmmm, it's not really a bag of laughs from their end either. And then you feel like a right rip for feeling the feelings you feel about them.

I'm not going soft on them, honest. If they can't stand the heat (or know the rules . . . or be brave enough to enforce them) they shouldn't be refereeing or umpiring in the kitchen of sportiness, no matter how many sacrifices they make or how amateur their status.

But: Renee Cohen? Thirty-seven years old, an international hockey umpire for the past 11 years. Four Champions' Trophies, a World Cup, a Junior World Cup to her name and, last year, voted one of the Sydney Olympics' top five umpires. Spoke to her on Thursday.

It's a long story, but Cohen was selected to umpire at the Junior Women's World Cup in Argentina. She has five weeks' holidays a year from her job, Argentina would take up nearly three of them. No problem. Arranged her holidays. Flew to Buenos Aires.

Had been umpiring in the Dutch men's league until Argentina, and if you can umpire there you can umpire anywhere. Did the "Bleep Test" when she arrived, the umpires' fitness examination that involves a series of runs between lines 20 metres apart, with each run becoming progressively shorter, hence requiring an increase in speed.

Failed first test. Did second. Told me she was "almost vomiting" at the end of it, having pushed herself so hard to meet the requirement.

The same fitness requirement that one of the world's top hockey coaches says he wouldn't expect of any of his players. Fell 0.4 seconds short and was told she would be given "no appointments" at the tournament. Polite lingo for "hump off home, we don't need you". Got on plane and returned to Holland, five days after arriving in Argentina.

Note: She's one of the best umpires in the world, has reached Olympic standard and officiates in the top league in the world. "Rules are rules," they'll say. Fair enough. But as one international coach put it: "I've seen plenty of super-fit umpires who can't umpire, and plenty more who fail the "Bleep Test" but are the best in the business."

So? So, lots of questions, but the main one is: Why do so many sporting organisations inflict incompetent officials on their players and fail to encourage those with a decent knowledge of the laws of the game and a happy knack of using their common sense?

"No comment". Because? "Just because". Renee Cohen? Wondering why she ever bothered.