Refereeing hijinx

So.......I'm officiating a town-team basketball game last night, to get some runs in before high school ball starts later this week.....

I've officiated since I was a teenager, but never had someone go this level of nuts.

I call a reach-in foul on a guy......I go report the foul, and someone from the bench says, "That's fuckin bullshit."

I couldn't tell who said it, so I gave a bench T.

Guy walks by me, and says...."That's fuckin bullshit."

I give him one.

He says......"That's fuckin bullshit"

Number two.

He says........"That's fuckin bullshit, you fat fuckin pussy."

Number three, and after number three, I tell him he gets another one, I forfeit the game on the spot, and it was a 9 point game with 14:00 left in the game.

He says......."Fuck you, you fat mother fucker."

Game, set, match.

My supervisor calls me in this morning, we talk about it........we suspend him from any and all activities for 5 years, and the team is put on probation for the rest of the year, so if anyone else on their team gets whacked, the team forfeits the rest of the season.

Oh......and last night was opening night.

Now....my fingers hurt from giving all the T's.

 

And then Chef cut off his technical-giving fingers. The end.

 

All but one.

 

Giving Ts are cool, but nothing is better than a ref who calmly walks up to a player and shows a yellow card six inches from their mug.

 

What is this yellow card you speak of?

 

If you ask again, I'm throwing your ass out of here.

 

Careful, Chef. You can't do that anymore.

 

Oh........OK




















I've heard worse.

 

This better?

 

Everyday.

 

CHEF: You're not fooling anybody, Bender! The next player that gets T'd up is gonna be you!

BENDER (under his breath): Eat my shorts...

CHEF: What was that?

BENDER (loudly): Eat my shorts!

CHEF: You just bought yourself another technical, mister!

BENDER: Oh, Christ...

CHEF: You just got one more right there!

BENDER: Well, I'm free the Tuesday after that...beyond that, I'm gonna have to check my calendar!

CHEF: Good! 'Cause it's not gonna be filled with basketball! We'll keep goin'! You want another T? Say the word, just say the word! Instead of coming here, you'll go home and not fuck your wife! Are you through?

BENDER: No!

CHEF: I'm doing this league a favor!

BENDER: So?

CHEF: That's another one, right now! I'll throw you out for the rest of your natural born life if you don't watch your step! You want another one?

BENDER: Yes!

CHEF: You got it! You got another T, right there! That's another one pal!

BENDER'S WIFE: (worried) Cut it out!

CHEF: You through?

BENDER: Not even close, bud!

CHEF: Good! You got one more T, right there!

BENDER: Do you really think I give a shit?

CHEF: Another...

Bender glares at him.

CHEF: You through?

BENDER: How many is that?

DWEEBY KID ON OTHER TEAM: That's seven including the one when we first came in and you asked Chef here whether Barry Manilow knew that he raided his closet.

CHEF (to Bender): Now it's eight...

(to Dweeby kid)

You stay out of it!

DWEEBY KID: Excuse me, sir, it's seven!

CHEF: Shut up, Peewee!

(to Bender)

You're mine Bender...for five years I gotcha! I gotcha!

BENDER: What can I say? I'm thrilled!

CHEF: Oh, I'm sure that's exactly what you want these teammates to believe. You know something, Bender? You ought to spend a little more time trying to work on your defense and a little less time trying to impress people. You might be better off.

(to everyone)

All right, that's it! I'm going to be running up and down this court. The next time I hafta come to the sidelines...I'm cracking skulls!

(Bender mouths "I'm cracking skulls")

Chef turns around and runs down the floor. A musical riff builds to a climax as Bender screams.

BENDER (screams): Fuck you!

 

wow.