Some heroes don’t wear capes. They wear whistles and snap when provoked.
He was doing too much.
Jumping on the scorer’s table.
Mocking my signals.
At one point, he pretended to call a foul on me.
I let it slide.
For three quarters.
Then he walked up behind me during a free throw
and did the worm.
In a bear costume.
While holding a sign that said “BAD CALL!”
That’s when I knew it was time.
No words.
Just one sharp whistle
and the most aggressive point toward the tunnel I’ve ever given.
The crowd erupted.
The players paused.
Even the other ref mouthed, “Yo, you really did that?”
Damn right I did.
You think I won’t toss a six-foot fuzzy instigator just because he sells popcorn merch during halftime?
Try me.
I don’t care how hot it is in that suit.
If you mock the stripes,
you leave with your head down and your paws up.
Mascot gone.
Morale restored.
Game on.
Whistle Diaries: Right. Every. Time. 
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