C'MON REF!

Last night at my rec basketball game, I got T’ed up, dogg. (A “T” or technical foul basically means you were being a jerk.) The situation was thus: the refs were old and idiotic. One guy was color-blind as he kept saying one team’s color and pointing in the direction opposite of that team’s offensive basket, which is precisely the opposite of what he's supposed to do. The other guy was older than Methuselah and kind of a prick. His attitude was, "I'm a hundred years old, so I'm allowed to be a moron!" What had I done to earn such discredit? I calmly said, “C’mon” to the ref after taking a forearm upside my beautiful, beautiful face. (Face is decidedly NOT part of the ball!) Ok, I didn’t calmly say it. I yelled it . . . loudly and there was anger in my voice, no doubt. But I didn’t swear! I wanted to, but I did not. That didn't matter as he quickly T'ed me up anyway. After the T, I went over and said (this time for serious calmly), “He hit me in the face.” Then Father Time said he’d toss me (oh no!) if I said “one more thing.” I just took a sub and got ready to go to the bar. But not before contemplatings literally saying "one more thing" and seeing if he could figure out the marginally clever defiance.

It was the most pissed I’ve been in a long time. I mean, I know the refs svck. It’s inevitable and understandable considering the level of play/circumstances. And years ago I got T’ed up regularly because I have an anger management issue when it comes to refs whose suckiness I disagree with. I’ve mellowed over time and most games I don’t say anything at all even though I know the refs will be bad. I’m usually mentally prepared. That's all well and good, but emotions can run high. And hey, they get 30 bucks a game apiece. Is it too much to ask that they remain conscious for the entirety of the contest? That they have a little pride in their craft? That they insist the nursing home give them their anti-crazy pills BEFORE tip-off?

Eventually I became laughing-it-off upset and then annoyed, with some regret stirred in. A couple of cold, delicious beers calmed me down and then I realized I also got my middle finger jammed by the other team (no foul call, naturally). This makes it difficult to type this important post and also difficult to flip off senile referees. And that is a tragedy.