What a Strange Hill to Die On

Astute observers of this newsletter may remember a few issues back when I wrote about getting hurt during a basketball game.

I witnessed another injury last night, but thankfully, it wasn’t a sprained ankle or a broken arm or anything physical.

No, this was a situation that simply caused my brain to feel pain from sheer confusion.

About halfway through the first half, we had built up a bit of a lead. It certainly wasn’t insurmountable, though, and the other team thought they had put a dent into said lead when they made a basket.

Only the nearby official called an offensive foul.

I was sitting on the bench when this play happened, so I had a pretty good vantage point of everything. Our defender jumped up to contest the shot, but he stayed straight up. The offensive player was just jumping toward the basket, not into the defender. It’s probably a no-call 99 out of 100 times.

We just happened to witness the one time it wasn’t.

And my goodness, this team FLIPPED OUT. The player who was called for the foul started cussing and telling the official his call was BS (but in much harsher language). He got called for a technical and said, “Good.”

We thought that would be the end of it. We’ve all overreacted to things before. After a minute, cooler heads would prevail.

Well, have I got a twist for you: Cooler heads did not prevail.

Instead, one of the other guys on the opposing team began swearing even MORE aggressively. He kept calling the official an effing cornball (again, with a harsher variant of that phrase), and I’m fairly certain he said something like it was the worst call he’s ever seen.

The official predictably called a technical foul on him, too.

A player on our team shot two technical free throws, and the other official called a lane violation on the enraged player.

Keep in mind, everyone else was BEHIND HALF COURT, so this was quite pedantic at this point. The other team did not take kindly to it.

The second player who got a technical then proceeded to get another technical foul.

In every league I’ve played in, if you get two technical fouls, you’re not only ejected from the game, but you also have to leave the gym.

It might be a silly rule, but it’s standard practice.

This man could not believe it. And he refused to leave. The officials, in turn, refused to officiate the rest of the game until he left. We watched about eight minutes tick off the clock, and the halftime buzzer sounded.

At that point, someone involved with the league or gym or something came in and chatted with the team captains. The other team forfeited because their player was too stubborn to leave the gymnasium. I’m still baffled by it.

We had all driven in some horrendous traffic to play in this game, so we agreed to a pickup game using the remaining 20 minutes of the second half.

Fittingly, our pickup game ended in a tie. I caught an airballed three-pointer and passed it back out to my teammate for the game-tying shot at the buzzer. Majestic.

What made this whole ordeal even more shocking was what I learned after the game. The opposing team didn’t even know each other very well. It was a group of guys who worked together. The dude who wouldn’t leave was a casual acquaintance, at best. 

Perhaps that gave him less of a sense of loyalty? I’m not sure.

Either way, it’s among the most ridiculous hills I’ve seen someone die on. I’m just glad I got to witness it from up close.