Before I get to the [delayed] reaction post, I wonder if I might present a conspiracy theory. Mind, I'm doing this on the evidence of Thursday night's McBribe...oops!...Fire win, and last night's officiating horror in the United match. I haven't yet watched the rest of the highlights to see if there was any more meddling going on, but picture this scene on say, Tuesday evening...
Deep in the rat-infested bowels of MLS HQ, Garber and his shadowy minions grumble as they pass around ink-stained sheets. It seems that notice of the plague of draws infecting MLS has spread from the wild-eyed provocateurs of the blogosphere to the ranks of the mainstream media. Garber's eyes narrow, and he crooks his finger, whispering to a hooded henchman his sinister wishes.
Cackling, this ragged crony ascends to the cobwebbed belfry of MLS HQ and straps a short message to the leg of a hunched and hideous messenger-crow. With a terrible croak, the giant bird beats its way aloft. Supporters' groups the land over shiver as its evil shadow passes across their assembled soccer specific stadia and echoing gridiron palaces, until at last it alights on the roof of the Tower of the Damned, home of US Soccer's nefarious cabal of Whistlemen.
Brian Hall strides forth, bald pate flashing in the pale sun, and pulls the message from the crow's proffered leg. He scans its contents, then glares at the ebon-feathered beast. Lifting his whistle, he blows a shrill blast, shows the crow a yellow card and storms back towards the tower. The crow unleashes a torrent of croaking abuse, and Hall turns. Chest puffed out in righteous fury, he rushes back towards the bird, fumbles in his pocket, and finally pulls forth first another yellow, then a red, dismissing it for dissent.
Then he spins on his heel and marches back to the tower, the message from MLS HQ dropping to the floor in his haste to stuff the cards back in the pocket of his shorts. It swirls in the gusting winds atop the tower until the crow pins it with a twisted claw. Cocking its feathered head, it fixes a glossy black orb upon the slashing chicken-scratch of Garber's hooded minion.
"Isn't there anything you can do about all these draws?"