What do you think is the hardest job in the world?

Catching king crab in the middle of the moody Bering Sea? Working on oil rigs in the stormy Gulf of Mexico? Sawing into a person’s skull and skillfully scraping away a malignancy from the brain? Being a law enforcement officer in Robeson County? No, no, no, and could be.

I am going with being a sports official, either in football or basketball, at the collegiate or professional level. Perfection is the pursuit in officiating, but is impossible to attain because of the speed at which those games are played. When a mistake is made, the whole world gets to see it, in slow motion and multiple times, not only immediately, but during the days that follow as a cabal of overpaid idiots gather around a table and scream at the camera.

Oh, and the easiest job in the world? Not sure what you call it, but Stephen A. Smith is the chosen one. Another measure of this country’s greatness is that blowhard makes $12 million a year.

I have met Brad Allen, the white-hat guy for an NFL officiating crew, just once, when he was a speaker at a fundraiser for the Boy Scouts. It cost me a few hundred dollars for a seat at the table, and it was worth it. His message that day was inspiring, wrapped wonderfully with the right mix of humor and humility.

Afterward, I introduced myself to him, and shared that in all the times I had seen him officiate a TV game, I could only remember once there being a call that I believe he and his crew had blown. That number might have doubled Sunday night.

Allen, a Lumberton native who graduated from UNCP and climbed the officiating ranks right here in Robeson County, is now a household name — not a good thing for any official, whose gift for excellence is anonymity.

I say might have doubled because almost a week after Allen made a critical call in a game between the Detroit Lions and Dallas Cowboys, some pundits say he got it right and some say he did not. More than anything else, that should be a bold line under the impossibility of officiating.

What the pundits ought to be asking is why the Detroit coach, with the ball at the Cowboys’ 7-yard line, decided to go for a 2-point conversion with a success rate of about 20 percent instead of taking a chip shot extra point and having a coin-toss chance in overtime.

While I do not really know Brad, I know a lot of folks who do, and they speak with a single voice: Brad is a terrific guy and a great referee, an inspiration to young people in this county in need of an example of hard work paying off. There are a lot of those.

It has bothered me seeing him vilified again and again, his integrity and competence being challenged, because of his call regarding a nefarious rule that even diehard football fans do not fully understand. There is even a TikTok video circulating that if I were Allen, I would share with the best lawyer I could buy as it uses transparently dishonest editing to accuse him of taking bribes.

I need to be clear. Few sports fans have complained more about officiating than the author of this column, as I remain convinced that every single time a UNC sports team has been on the wrong end of the score that an official is to blame. But I am at least self-aware enough to know that emotions, not logic, fuel that wrongheaded position.

My expectations are low: I expect officials to distribute the poor calls evenly, and when the game is being determined, swallow the whistle and do not dictate the outcome.

Brad Allen is a big boy and is paid a lot of money, and I am sure he accepts that officials are, like the athletes, in the arena, and will be criticized by those whose investment is a couple of hours and a six-pack of Bud Light.

But questioning a person’s integrity is a line crossed.

I know too well.