I first met Jeremiah Chass nearly ten years ago, in the fall of 1997. He and my son Willie were teammates on the under-8 Wesco Tri-School boys soccer team coached by Joe Maloney. They were called “The Bombers” - a politically incorrect name for a youth sports team even in the days before 9-11 and the War in Iraq, but befitting a group of six and seven year old boys bringing innocence and exuberance to the field of play.

The Bombers had some very talented young athletes who would go on to excel in competitive sports in their teens. Eric Debold, Alan Johnson, and Joey Maloney come to mind, and there are others I am regrettably forgetting. All these kids could play soccer well for their age, but one of them could really play well.

Jeremiah Chass stood a little taller than the other boys, moved a little quicker, and played a little harder. According to the recent accounts of many who knew him better than I, Jeremiah would later develop into a higher being in the metaphysical sense. I can't speak to that, but in the golden days of 1997 he was certainly the best player, in the physical sense, on a team full of good players.

With Jeremiah leading the way, the Bombers went to the City Cup finals and came away with huge trophies.

As happy as I was for my son Willie, I couldn't help feeling a little envious. For years I had been coming up short in City Cup while coaching my older son's teams, and this year was no different. Dean Rhode's perennial powerhouse Gravenstein Cheetahs again dominated us in the under-12 age group.

The next season I began coaching Willie's soccer teams, continuing all the way to the present. As a coach looking for a winning advantage, I always wanted to get Jeremiah Chass on my team. Somehow it never worked out.

Occasionally I would see Jeremiah playing in a game at Ragle, the alpha leader on another team, but as the years and seasons went by I gradually lost track of him.

This past fall I got reacquainted with Jeremiah at the soccer field. He was a referee now, and worked most of the home games at Analy involving my under-16 WESCO boys team.

At the under-16 age level, soccer is played full tilt by young athletes with testosterone intensity. Hard fouls and foul language are not uncommon.

Sometimes the parents and coaches get into the act with loud and inappropriate comments, or “dissent,” as the language of soccer euphemistically refers to the all too common behavior of mouthing off at the ref.

Amid the excitement and chaos of the game, Jeremiah always maintained his cool as a referee. He stayed focused on the action, kept up with the play, and never blew a call. That, of course, did not stop me, grown man that I am, from groaning and moaning at times over the judgment calls that are part of the fast-moving game.

Jeremiah always took the sideline dissent in stride, with a smile. At the end of the game I would find myself apologizing to him for getting too loud. This happened so often that it was almost like a post-game ritual, my sheepish apology to a youth referee for losing control. Jeremiah would politely listen to my apology and tell me not to worry about it. He was untroubled and I was relieved.

And that is my warm and lasting memory of Jeremiah Chass. We are shaking hands on a sunny afternoon after a soccer game, and life seems beautiful.