What is this?
Alright. What the f*ck are we doin’? Ok, this is an interview then? No. Hold on. They’re sayin’ this is some sort of diary ? Aaaah. F*ck this.
[Leaves for 45 minutes. Inaudible cursing in hallway. Returns to desk.]
They’re sayin’ I have to do this then. The league wants me to be more “relatable” or somethin’. I don’t know what’s so unrelata– hold on… [haaaaaaaawk… spit]
Alright. Where was I? Right. So I’m sittin’ there – watchin’ the movie – mindin’ my own, when these teenagers won’t knock stop makin’ a ruckus. So I turn around and politely ask them to shut the f*** up and the girl teenager says to me that her boyfriend is having an asthma attack. I thought that might’ve been some sort of gang code for somethin’ dangerous so I jumped over my chair and tried to strangle the guy teenager. Security escorted me out and that’s when I first knew I wanted to be a ref.