Not since Bo Derek bounced along a Mexican beach have I seen a perfect 10 - but I did think that Kenny Clark's refereeing at Pittodrie was in fine shape.
This, obviously, is a view diametrically opposed to that of most Rangers fans, Aberdeen supporters and, particularly, Walter Smith, who at one point looked as if he would happily have seen the referee's assistant, George Drummond, burned at the stake.
And, right enough, on the face of it, television evidence, which in turn triggers trial by punditry - the curse of the referee - suggested that the match official was guilty of extreme clemency.
Rangers captain Barry Ferguson was at the heart of the matter when Lee McCulloch tried his Eric Cantona impersonation and again when he shook young Chris McGuire warmly by the throat in the wake of a touchline incident.
But excuse me while I look at the big picture here.
Refereeing, contrary to public opinion, is not an exact science. And, for my money, Kenny Clark produced a highly-acceptable, in fact thoroughly laudable, performance.
There is too much finger pointing at officials.
Of course they have shockers. I've seen them make decisions that defy the logic of the drunk and incapable. And, of course, some are elevated to the Scottish Premier League when they should have been chained to public parks.
But don't include Clark - and one or two others, like Mike McCurry - in that gang.
MY SPORT: DEBATE
The Aberdeen v Rangers game was going nowhere, toddling along, at best a brisk stroll in the mid-winter air that was so chill it had frozen the Dee. And then Alan Hutton decided to do his lumberjack impersonation on Chris Clark and all hell broke loose.
Forget the brutality. From a tactical point of view, this, I surmised, was lunacy, because it fired Aberdeen when - up until then - there hadn't even been a glow in their bellies.
Retribution, inevitably, followed and that led to further retribution. Had the referee responded to every call for punitive action in terms of cards, it could have ended up seven-a-side. But Clark, bless him, took his time, thought about where all this might lead and applied the laws of common sense.
As for Mr Drummond's part in all of this then I did assume that assistant referees were there to assist. It was a fair trot to the McCulloch incident, admittedly, and he did cover it in Linford Christie time, but he's there to officiate, not provide alibis.
I've never quite understood the mentality of players who rush to an incident when a team-mate is illegally tackled and then indulge in the chest-pushing scrum that I realised in the primary school playground was pointless, although admittedly I am a coward.
At the same age - primary five I suspect - it dawned on me that I was born to be, no matter how often readers of this column may argue, a writer, not a fighter.
Time after time, you see it, players pushing and shoving, arguing the toss over a tackle that was allegedly life threatening but, in truth, was no more grievous bodily harm than being assaulted with a sponge.
If referees reacted by the letter of the law in these circumstances then football grounds would need detention centres, not dressing-rooms.
Maybe it's the time of year or maybe it's the time of man - as Joni Mitchell once wrote - but I'm feeling a warmth to our dear referees. A wee cuddle even.
Although, given the choice of Kenny Clark and Bo Derek...
~RS~q~RS~~RS~z~RS~09~RS~)