The referee blew his whistle, indicating the end of the first half.
The college soccer team huddled together around their coach, Alex, to discuss their performance through the first half of the game. They were down by 3 goals, a relatively wide margin in soccer where scoring tends to be low. Maybe it was the weather that was making them play worse than usual, as the sun was hidden behind the clouds and the wind ripped loudly down the pitch, but no matter what they had to improve. The guys looked to Alex for encouragement.
"I know that was a tough half, guys. Our opponents sure came well-prepared to counter our best formations, so we'll have to modify our strategy for the second half. But for the time being, grab some water and try to warm up. We'll come back together in 5!"
As the guys walked back to the benches, dejected, Alex pulled back the team captain, Jake.
"Jake, what do you think is going on out there?!" He was truly hoping Jake would have an answer, because he didn't have much insight from the sidelines.
"I'm not quite sure, Alex," Jake began. "The other team is definitely playing strong, but I also feel like the ref is being really hard on us. He's definitely been stricter about the rules for us than the other team."
Alex nodded, trying to figure out what to do. "Maybe I should try talking to him about those calls then, just to see what we can do differently."
"I don't know, Coach," Jake responded. "These younger referees can get really defensive if a coach criticizes them. Maybe it'd be better if I went to talk to him, just as a player, to ask for advice."
"Great idea, Jake. He should be in the referee's office for the next 30 minutes or so. Do you know where that is?"
"Yeah, under the bleachers. I'll let you know what he says," Jake said as he started walking from the pitch to the bleachers.
"I'll be waiting," Alex said back. "Be nice!"
As Jake walked around the bleachers, he looked up at all the fans. A healthy mix of current students and alumni, they were clearly disappointed in their team's performance that day. Jake knew he had to somehow convince the referee to go a little easier on his team if they were going to have any chance at winning the game.
When he finally got to the exterior door, he realized that he'd never actually been inside the offices before. Was it a tiny space? Could you see up through the bleachers? He nonchalantly sniffed his pits, realizing that the smelled sweaty after playing hard for the first half. Fuck, he thought, hoping the space was big enough that the referee wouldn't mind his athletic stench.
He knocked softly on the door before opening it up, then peaked his head into the space. "Hello?" he called out, not wanting to intrude. He had to be as polite as possible.
"Oh hey," he heard a deep and gruff voice say. "Come on in."
Jake did as he was told, taking in the cavernous space as his eyes adjusted to the lower amount of light. Essentially an old wooden storage room, it was a dim office with some broken athletic equipment, a few flickering overhead lights, and a small desk to the left. Jake noticed how a little bit of light streamed through the stair-stepped ceiling boards above, which were clearly the floor of the stadium seats. He felt bad for the referee, cooped up in this slimy lair before games and for all of halftime.
As Jake walked up to the referee's desk, he got his first good look at the man. On the soccer field, he had only been able to see the ref's short black hair and facial scruff under his baggy striped uniform and cap. But now, the ref was sitting behind the desk with his feet propped up, the top few buttons of his striped shirt open, and no hat, giving Jake a much better look. In his late twenties or early thirties, he was very handsome, clearly a jock himself. His tanned skin was covered in a trimmed patch of chest hair. With his arms behind his head, Jake could also see the ref's flexed biceps, were seems quite large. In seconds, Jake felt a boner coming on. He felt thankful to be wearing a jock strap, which mostly held down his cock to his thigh.
"Sorry for my appearance," the referee began. "It's actually pretty warm in here with the space heater," he said, pointing to the little heating unit next to the desk.
"No worries," Jake stammered. He tried to sound casual but was having a hard time moving beyond sheer horniness.
"Well, what can I do for you, um..."
"Jake," he said, giving his name.
"Matt," the referee replied, extending his hand for a handshake. Jake noticed how large it was, perhaps an indication of something else. "Please sit down, Jake." He indicated to the chair, which Jake took.
"Thanks, Matt. I was hoping to ask you about the first half," Jake started timidly. "We got a number of calls against us and were hoping to minimize that in the next half. Do you have any advice?"
Matt looked a little surprised, not used to questions like that. "To be honest, I can't really discuss the game with you. It just wouldn't be fair to the other team. Plus, I called the penalties on the field, so you should know what not to do from here on."
Jake nodded to acknowledge he understood. "Well, I guess that's what we'll do then," he replied, standing up to leave. "Thanks for your time."
Jake got up from the chair and started walking back to the door. That wasn't the answer he was hoping for, and he knew Coach wouldn't be too happy with it either. But there wasn't much he could do. The referee said point-blank that he wasn't willing to discuss the game any more than what he'd already called on the field.
"Wait!" Jake heard from behind him just before he reached the exit. He turned around, seeing the referee stand up. "Don't I know you from somewhere?"
Jake racked his brain but came up short. "Not sure, man. If I'm being honest, you don't look too familiar to me. Have you refereed our games before?"
