"Old-school Sunday-paper goodness"

I love creating the webcomic Fouls and Violations. I never put a lot of thought on how people saw my work. This was a project I’ve always dreamed of doing.

I want to thank the 3AM Comic for the review of my webcomic, Fouls and Violations. Even if it was a bad review I probably would be excited that someone took the time to look at my work. Thanks for your blessings. I truly appreciate the love

Please check out this link: 3AM Comic
http://threeamcomics.wordpress.com/2010/04/09/not-a-comic-dont-read/

Or go to 3AM Comics post on April 9, 2010.

Safe travels.

Just in Case you missed the posting.....Read below.

Not a comic, don’t read

APRIL 9, 2010

by teax2

I don’t like not posting comics. But I don’t like going too long without ANY post at all either, and technically you’re going to get comics in this post, just not from ME. Here are a couple I’ve found to be pretty cool, by other people, who manage to update more than I do. A LOT more.

http://www.foulsandviolations.net/fv/

Ever wondered what it’s like to ref amateur basketball? I haven’t either. But while Kevin Sparrock’s art is old-school Sunday-paper goodness, the humor is anything but used-up.

http://twoevilscientists.smackjeeves.com/comics/

Just read this from the beginning. TRUST ME. Of particular hilariousness to people who have collected all seven emeralds and fifty rings in Casino Night Zone Act 2 and beat the electric sphere boss in 7.5 seconds.

Anyway, I’m at work on a script and its art will likely appear here in the next couple of weeks. Script Frenzy is so great. But getting feedback on your ideas is even better.

Halitosis

On February 24, 2010, I ran a series of strips about the subject halitosis. What inspired my thoughts was my inability to get teams out of the timeout huddles. There where things that really annoyed coaches. Like blowing your whistle, which in some leagues you’re not supposed to do. Or speaking loud or shouting to get there attention. This is also annoying and totally work against you.

So one day, I decided to have onion soup for lunch and skip the breath mints before the game. When a team didn’t leave the huddle, I spoke very calmly, “First horn.” Two players spun their heads around and said, “What the f&%#@.” Incredibly each player would back further away from me the more I encroached on their huddle.

I had another discovery that game. Coaches avoided long conversations with me. I think they where afraid to tell me, ‘You stink’. In fear that I would give them a technical foul.

What a thrill, a game with little to no conversation with coaches. I’m not sure it would work every game, but for forty minutes, life was grand.

Jack Plunkett

Long time women's college basketball referee Jack Plunkett passed away this season of a heart attack. Jack Plunkett, 56, is survived by his wife, Sue, and five children. The family lives in Jenkintown, PA.

Fellow division 1 official Warren Harding said, “Most people can’t name all the referees that worked the last three Final Fours. That’s because the greatest impact you make in life are not in your accomplishments but in how you help others around you.”

I met Jack Plunkett this summer. He was one of the instructors teaching about mechanics and positioning. He critiqued my performance once. He didn’t say much. He said enough. I never got an opportunity to speak with him again. What has been more profound to me is how after his death he has been able to impact so many. In a short period of time, I learned how wonderful a person Jack Plunkett was. Jack Plunkett, you should know that your peers have spoken so impeccably about your influence in there lives. You are loved and the referee community misses you.

Opinions are like Butt holes

Opinions are like Butt holes.
Everyone has one.
I’m always amazed how a referee/ observer/ fan can say that one referee is ‘Great’. And another referee/ observer/ fan can say that same official is ‘Horrible’. I always wonder where people base their opinions. I’ve worked with plenty of officials who were labeled great and I walked away saying, “This greatness should be relabeled loser”. On the flip side I’ve encountered someone labeled, “horrible” and I wondered if this idea of horrible could be bottled and preserved.

The impression you get from working with a referee is totally different from the impression an observer gets from watching someone from the stands. I guess it all depends on your pet peeve. I had a referee who didn’t like working with me because I called in there subs. I had an official hate me because I had a double whistle on a foul. I had a referee label me horrible because I didn’t stand in the proper timeout position. I wonder if these peeves had anything to do with basketball.

I also have this delusional thought that I know what is important and what makes a good referee. I care if a referee has my back. Don’t sell me out to dry to a supervisor. Tell the whole truth. I messed up one play with two seconds remaining in the game and you messed up five plays. I don’t care if you blow in my primary, just be right. Oh yea, be a good person first. See I told you...delusional.

See there’s someone out there who has worked with me and used the words horrible and terrible. The truth is, they’re probably right. That day I probably did something that was there referee pet peeve. Chances are, I likely had a bad game. Or, I had my gas face on. That never goes over well with my partners. I wonder if they were right. Am I horrible? Who’s opinion should you listen to? Should I really care?

This season I had a horrible game. I remember beating myself up about my poor selection of calls and my patience. My fifteen year old daughter who was in attendance turned to me as i kicked myself and said, “Dad, for what its worth, I think you did a great job. I thought it was pretty cool.” Sometimes my daughter can drive me nuts, but her Butt hole opinion is the only one that matters to me.

Safe traveling.

THE UNDERWEAR DUDE

 J-WARE is underwear created by textile experts from the University of Tokyo. One of the astronauts of the Space Shuttle has the pleasure of sporting this odor–free garment. This underwear is designed to kill bacteria, absorb water, insulate the body and dry quickly. It’s also flame-resistant and anti–static proof.  Not to mention it’s comfortable and stylish. (yea right)

This underwear is designed to be worn for an entire week.

After reading this I know that three quarters of the men on the planet are cheering and ALL woman of the world are screaming.  Unless my water at my home mysteriously shuts off, a nuclear disaster, or Nostradamus’ end of the world prediction comes true, I can’t think of any reason to wear the same underwear two days in a row. Let alone a week.  

Unfortunately, there’s some referees out there in love with this product and its not even in stores yet. 

“I can referee three games with the same underwear! Watch out!”  

I know, I know, I hate that visual. 

When I first read about this astronaut, I felt sorry for him. Then I saw his picture before he got on the space shuttle. He had this huge smile from ear to ear. He’s either real happy or can’t wait to get on the space shuttle so he can scratch. In my eyes he’ll forever be known as the “Underwear Dude.” If someone sees him in the airport, people won’t say, “There’s the Space Shuttle Astronaut.”  They’ll say, “That’s the Underwear Dude.” At the mall, “That’s the Underwear Dude.” At the local bodega, “That’s the Underwear Dude.”

Damn

Please don't throw him

I refereed a ton of sixth and seventh grade boys' game when I first started. Back then you could work at least four games a day. Basketball junkie was an understatement. These where the games where the parents would scream, stomp and sometimes curse you out. The coaches where just as bad. 

I recall a game where this coach kept giving me crazy beef on every play.  I drew my line in the sand and he crossed it. 

What did he win?

A technical foul and a possible trip to snow covered streets of northern New Jersey.

Of course the coach wouldn’t stop complaining after the first technical.  Just before I decided to send him on his fun filled vacation, one of the kids walked up to me and said, “Please don’t throw him out.  That’s my Dad, he doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

This might have been the only time I could physically feel my jaw drop and eye lids widen. 

This was one of the moments in life where you realize the kids are smarter than the parents. They were content running up and down the court. They were playing on a team. Had a tee shirt with a number on the front.  The referees made it feel official. For these kids, this was their NBA. They were living out there Jordan, Magic and Bird fantasies on the court. These days its Lebron, Kobe, and Wade.They where living the life. I was just blessed to be apart of it.

By the way, I had to get a parent from the bleachers to finish the game after I tossed the coach out the gym. 

LBA, Leader of the Bonehead Association

Being the basketball junkie that I am. I decided to help a buddy out and referee the local men's league. Mistake number one. Never, ever, ever, ever, work the local men's league during the season.
Introducing the LBA, Leader of the Bonehead Association. This is the local cat that complains at the jump ball that I didn't toss the ball high enough. And yes, his team gets the first possession of the jump ball. He's the cat who murmurs under his breath the whole game. He's the dude who gets a technical foul 5-10 minutes into the game. And yes, he can't play. Not even a little bit. 
A few of the guys who play know I work the WNBA. They're good dudes but I wish they wouldn't tell captain LBA (Leader of the Bonehead Association) that I work in the WNBA. The first thing Mr. LBA complains about when he trips over his shoelaces is, "This is a man's game". He says this with a whine and a smirk, and under his breath. I'm good at ignoring stuff but every so often the little demon gets on my shoulder and has to mess my flow up. So on this wonderful occasion, Mr. LBA pulled my last nerve. With four minutes remaining and his team down 25 he found the opportunity to talk under his breath. "This isn't woman's basketball". All of a sudden the little demon on my shoulder grabbed my vocal cords in his little hand and forced me to blurt out. "You're right because Candace Parker would have dunked on you and would have told your momma and little girlfriend how you cried like a..." And then I yanked the demon off my neck.
At home, I look forward to telling my lovely wife about this great day in sports. She'll roll her eyes and probably tell me to avoid that league.
I won't tell her about the ejection and the almost fight.