Chip:...and you can plainly see it's not pass interference.
Rick: That's right. Looking at it in slow motion, you see the receiver hold his hands up waiting for the ball. The safety comes in from the side and sticks his arm in between the receiver's hands to knock it away. The safety never even makes contact with the receiver. But the receiver sure does do a good job of playing it up. He jerks his arm down to make it look like the safety interfered with the play. The official who threw the flag was behind the play and had his vision impeded by the bodies of both men. He didn't see a thing and only reacted to the receiver's acting job.
Chip: So then the entire officiating crew comes together to talk it through. And in a new rule adopted by the league just this season, they do a cursory replay review of the play. The ref actually goes over to the sideline, takes a quick look at the play in regular speed and in slow motion and STILL upholds the call.
Rick: It's a travesty. If any fan out there wants to know why the Houston Texans' undefeated season just went down in flames on the final game of the regular season, all you have to do is look at the result of that play. If the penalty is overturned, there are only 3 seconds left in the game and the Cardinals are on their own 30 yard line. Maybe a miracle happens and they score on the final play of the game. Maybe they don't. We'll never know. What we DO know is that penalty that wasn't a penalty allowed Arizona into field goal range and on the next play, the kicker knocked it through the uprights to give the Cardinals a 27 to 24 victory.
Chip: And that gives the Houston Texans a record of 16 and 1 for a season where they've looked practically unstoppable all year long. No one has even come close to beating them. Rick, I've got to ask you... The ref, Mack Carmichael... He's got a pretty good reputation around the league. He takes a look at this play at least a couple times on the tablet - maybe more than a couple. How do you justify him not overturning the penalty flag?
Rick (hesitating): I think all I should say here is that the wrong call was made and hopefully some things will be done by the league office in the offseason to avoid something like this happening again.
Chip: We've worked together for how many seasons now...six? Seven?
Rick: Yeah. About.
Chip: And we've known each other for maybe ten years before that from your playing days before you transitioned to the TV booth and then became a studio analyst, right?
Rick: Sure. (chuckles uncomfortably) Where are you going with this, Chip?
Chip: In all my years knowing you, I've never known you to hold back an opinion on anything...football-related or otherwise. I know you've got something more to say than just "the wrong call was made." C'mon, partner. Tell me how you really feel.
Rick: I really shouldn't. It's bad form.
Chip: Bad form nothing! It's what we both earn big bucks to do...talking about and analyze plays. Don't worry, Rick. It's just you and I here shooting the breeze...with a few million of our loyal viewers watching. What was your gut reaction when you saw that penalty and the aftermath go down?
Rick (hesitates a moment before speaking forcefully): Okay. I'll say it. Mack Carmichael is completely overrated. The guy doesn't just need contact lenses. He needs Mister Magoo glasses with Coke bottle thick lenses...and even then it still wouldn't be enough to help him make the right call on anything. The guy is a total amateur, frankly. These refs get post-season assignments on the merit of their record calling games during the regular season. Just based off of this one play alone, I think he should never be allowed to call a post-season game ever again for the rest of his life!
Chip: Wow, Rick. Tell me how you REALLY feel!
Rick (sighs as if with relief, but has a very uncomfortable look on his face): It's what I'm paid to do, buddy!
Sitting alone in his hotel room in L.A., watching the Week 18 wrap-up show special, Mack Carmichael felt his face flush and his blood boil with anger. As the voices of the two talking heads continued banter faded into background noise, he ruminated on what he'd seen on TV the past few minutes. No one likes to have someone else second guess their abilities. Mack prided himself on his ability to call a game and he always strove to make the right calls. He didn't get it right 100% of the time - no one does - but he always had the best of intentions. And that play they were talking about? Maybe the two TV "know-it-alls" didn't see what he saw on the replays on the field yesterday, but Mack knew he'd made the call he thought was correct. To be called out so publicly and in such a way that seemed geared to make a fool out of him? It was infuriating. In fact it wasn't just infuriating. It cut deep. He was starting to think that maybe he'd made a mistake.
Things had been a little topsy-turvy for the ref during the season. He'd had that early-season rendezvous with Gerry Phillips, the hungry bottom front office exec who still to this day reaches out with an occasional text every couple weeks, trying his best to get more ref dick in his ass.
A couple weeks after that initial hookup, Mack had a romp with the cute Head Coach of that team from the Midwest the night before the game. Somehow, the older ref - who had an open marriage arrangement with his wife, Teresa - had let the coach get into his head and his heart. In a weak moment the next day at the stadium a few hours before the game - in an effort to purge those feelings about the coach - he let himself get seduced when a D lineman on Coach's team sought him out and started chatting him up. Mack and the 26-year old - who had muscles in all the right places and what would be an understatement to describe as a sweet ass - went to the home team locker room that both men were sure would be totally deserted for at least another hour until the rest of the team and the coaching staff started showing up. They were naked and sweaty in the Athletic Training Room...Mack had the hunky lineman on his back with his legs in the air on the training table, pounding him for all he was worth in an effort to get the previous night with Coach out of his head.
Mack felt himself ready to explode when out of the blue from behind him at full volume he heard, "What the fuck is THIS?!"
Talk about a ball-shriveling sound... Mack saw the kid's eyes go wide as he glanced at the doorway. Mack pulled out right away and tried to compose himself before he turned around. Before the kid even spoke to the third party who'd come onto the scene, Mack knew who it was that had walked in on them. It was a voice he'd gotten to know well just 12 hours earlier.
"C-coach... I, uh....I-I..." the hunky player tried to form words as Mack hastily pulled on his underwear and uniform slacks and turned around to see the man he'd just spent several hours in bed with the night before.
"Save it, Johnson!" Coach spat. "Now get your ass out of here and into the showers so you can clean yourself up before the rest of the team shows up. I don't think you wanna have to explain to them why it is you smell like sex without a chick in sight, do ya?"
"Uh, sure Coach. But, you see, you should know that this, uh..."
Staring at the kid like he could've killed him with just a look if he wanted to, Coach said coldly, "We'll talk about this later, Johnson. Now move!"
The stud lineman gave Mack one last longing and sorrowful look before leaving the room. Coach slammed the door shut behind him. Things went sharply downhill once Mack and Coach were alone in the room. There was a lot of anger, yelling, and accusations hurled. One thing that wasn't said, though, was how Mack really felt about Coach. Neither did Coach express how Mack was fairly certain Coach felt about him. Instead, pride and hurt feelings ruled the direction that the argument went in.
Mack was barely able to make it through the game. He was a total wreck. Looking back on it, it was his worst-officiated game of the entire season and it showed, big time. On the flight back home, he promised himself that he was going to make some big changes. He and Teresa had agreed that - if either one of them was to engage in any extra curricular activities outside the marriage - it wouldn't be done in such a way that the other would find out about it. To honor that, Mack had promised himself no sex with men when he was at home and ensconced in his normal life outside of football. Maybe now it was time to put the brakes on extramarital sex altogether...at least for the time being.
For the next month, he'd been able to abide by the new rules he'd set for himself. It was a lonely and sexually-frustrating experience. Not only that, but he'd had to turn down at least two dozen players, coaches, and front office execs who'd approached him for some fun as the season continued. He'd even put off a fellow ref who - during his off week - had flown to Pittsburgh to attend the game Mack was officiating in hopes of a little post-game action. Turning that down was especially hard for Mack. The guy was everything he liked in a man...close Mack's age, closely-cropped hair, and muscles for days...definitely a muscle daddy if Mack ever knew one.
It wasn't until Thanksgiving Day that things changed and that promise Mack had made himself completely went out the window. He'd been selected to officiate the game in Detroit and he ended up meeting the man that changed everything. They'd met during the pregame media blitz that usually accompanies pro games, but is definitely a presence for a game that takes place on a holiday. There was instant chemistry there. As much as Mack tried to resist it and stay strong to the promise he'd made to himself to steer clear of situations that would get him in trouble, it was a losing battle. There was instant chemistry and the guy had a sexual aura about him that drew Mack in like a moth to a flame. The two made out for about half an hour before the game and even got in some over the clothing action. After the game, the guy sought Mack out and they found a place for a quick fuck. Better way to give thanks than scarfing down turkey, stuffing, and a piece of pumpkin pie.
Ever since then, the two had become an ongoing thing. Mack had even flown out to L.A. during an off week in early December to shack up with the guy for a few days. He'd told Teresa that he needed to be there as a possible backup to a fellow ref who was going to call a game, but had told the officiating office in New York that he was feeling under the weather and wouldn't know until game time whether or not he'd be well enough to go. He was pretty sure Teresa knew that was a lie. But as they each did during times like this, she'd kissed him on the cheek, smiled at him, and told him to have fun before he left to drive to the airport.
And now here he was in L.A. again as the final week of the regular season was coming to a close. He was a couple days away from finding out if he'd be selected to officiate a game during Wild Card Weekend. But the draw of his new guy had brought him to the west coast to await the news. This had become just the sort of situation that Mack had wanted to avoid. He wasn't looking for a sidepiece or a guy who might upset the delicate balance he and Teresa had set up for their open marriage. And now...after what he'd just watched on TV? He was five seconds away from calling the airport and booking a flight back home without saying so much as "boo" to his guy. He'd just picked up his phone when he heard the door click from someone sticking their key card in the slot. Mack steeled himself and tried to rein in the anger that was still freshly boiling within him.
Behind him, he heard the man walk in the room. "Hey, babe. I'm done and all yours for the rest of the day. You wanna go out and take in some sights? Instead, we could go down to the hotel gym and lift weights." Sitting on the couch in the living room of the suite, Mack felt the guy walk up behind him, place his strong hands on Mack's muscular shoulders, and start kneading them gently. "Or, we can stay up here and get in a good round or three of cardio...IF you know what I mean."
