Ethical Dilemma Tuesday: What Should the Texans Have Done to the Refs

Listen, as my good friend Tessa put it, maybe South America has it right about dealing with referees. Now, is this an overreaction after watching the refs in the Texans-Jaguars game just continually make horrible calls? Sure. But revolutions aren’t started due to some rational discussion between gentlemen. I’ve seen Les Mis. Revolutions begin when the people have had enough of the tyranny of an oppressive and authoritarian government/referee’s union.

I feel comfortable saying this now that I no longer fear Ed Hochuli finding my apartment and using his pythons to quietly, but gently, put me to sleep forever. I thought I lost my mind watching Premier League refs just make the worst decisions. It’s almost impressive how often a group of grown men can see a replay and say “yep fellows what if we made the worst possible decision.”

Stolen Valor

And watching the Texans game, I’m convinced the NFL is doing an exchange program with the Texas College for the Blind (this was actually the better officiated game). I have no clue how someone in New York looked at this and thought Tank Dell was levitating.

Or, that time Tank Dell apparently did his best Jason Kelce impression and moved slightly upfield. The coolest part of that was the refs were actually on stream delay and forgot to throw the flag when the penalty occurred.

I’m almost impressed that the refs continued to blow calls. Like look at this hold, which is as much a hold as my time holding women in the past year (it is zero).

There were so many instances where the refs forgot that Halloween was a couple weeks ago and decided to dress as the three blind mice. I’m no conspiracy theorist (I actually am, the weirder the better), but I’m starting to think horseman Trevor Lawrence paid off some refs. Or they too though Tony Khan needed a win before he tanked a company off White Claws and coke. Either way, they should show this in ref school; I imagine it’s all remedial classes.

Home Visits

That brings me to the point of this blog. The original title of the blog was about following refs home. I decided that I preferred SEO to shock, because I’m a slut for pageviews. And it’s based off of this clip from those original Ted Lasso commercial.

Funny enough, I also had another blog facing this dilemma. But that was about a soccer player threatening to stab a ref. To be fair to that soccer player, it’s an amateur team and the game was on Long Island. It was either threaten to stab him or angrily grumble about how Giuliani would have dealt with him (I imagine all Long Islanders live in the early 2000s when the Sopranos was on).

CJ Stroud is apparently too classy to threaten the meaningless life of a referee. Tank Dell was too sad about the drunkest coach in America (formerly it’s all Sark’s now). I just wanted something to happen to the pinstripes.

The best answer I can come up with is something I heard in a Saturday Night Live skit years ago. You find the addresses of the refs (not hard its all public information). At night you sneak into their house. Now, we need to take a page from Santas book and make sure no one feels threatened with grown adult breaking into their house. That’s why you do it on Christmas, but you dress as an elf. Then, if the kids catch you, you can just Cindy Loo Who them back to sleep.

Next, you take the ref into the woods. In said woods you build a bonfire and have some chants. I watched that A24 movie (COVID created an A24 phase; we all do regrettable things). While doing these chants (“Don’t Be Bold, It’s Not a Hold”, “If No Drag, Don’t Throw a Flag”), wear very memorable masks. After you have hypnotized the poor ref, take them back home. (Perform the Grinch 1-2 if necessary).

Now, when you leave, make sure to leave one of the masks on the bedside table. Then, if the ref thinks its all a dream, they’ll wake up and be terrified of calling an illegal shift.

Or maybe just penalzie them for making mistakes, NFL. But who am I but an anonymous guy on the internet. See you at the bonfire.

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