The American dream. The will of the people. These are terms Anthony Totoraitis uses mockingly, not realizing the reality behind what he says. His mockery and accusations are fables and lies. Let us reminisce for a second. Think back to third term last year. Do you remember how hard it was to find a game of basketball? We were lucky to play two-on-two.Then like a beacon in the night, an ambitious young Lawrentian stepped forward. His only wish was to officiate basketball through his love of fair play. But, as there was no competent person to run our intramural league, I stepped forward. Do not let the “mysterious disappearance” of the former commissioner fool you. This was no coup de tat; this was the voice of the people expressing a need to relieve their competitive fires through fair play and hard work. Because I listened to the people, biding my time, plotting my takeover, we are now able to play five-on-five at least two times a week.
This is how it always goes. A man pulls himself up from the lowest of referees through the expert tutelage of James “Big O” Occhipinti (currently of Bad News Jones), yet the naysayers must always come. Those people, like Mr. Totoraitis, who are jealous of the iron fist with which I control my league. Those, like Mr. Totoraitis, who win a championship and then become the Lakers of LU, losing their first two games and feeling that they must find a scapegoat for their own poor play. And like the mother of a fifth grade girl, they turn to the referee.
Perhaps he does not have much luck with the ladies, and is projecting his futility onto my power. Well, young man, let me explain something to you, officiating pays well, and I have been doing it for nine years. You do the math, because in America, first you get the money, then you get the power, then you get the women. Work hard my boy; don’t be a shooting star, frizzling out before you’ve become anything; and do not try to ride my coattails to fame and fortune.
When I was a boy, before this vast empire was mine, I was taught to love the game. Not for the rewards, but for the thrill of victory, and the love of competition. If Mr. Totoraitis’ concerns are so material that a T-shirt is the reason for which he plays, then my kingdom is cracking. We must never allow such a possession-driven usurper to cloud the minds, or disgrace the bountiful courts, of our beloved Buchanan Kiewit.
In regards to the outrageous allegations that my team cheated, I must redirect everyone to the official intramural basketball rulebook, rule 3.6.7a – player eligibility, which states that all players must receive approval from league commissioner for participation. Since, as all-powerful commissioner, I approved this player, he became eligible. It’s good to be the king.
I gave you competition when there was none; I gave you a chance to make friends when that chance was not available. I give you my time, my energy, and my devotion when no one else will, and this is how you repay me? You break my heart, son. This rebellion will not go unnoticed. You shall be crushed underfoot as the awesome machine that is term three intramural basketball rolls on. I dare you to run this league next year.
My reign cannot be stopped. Those who stand opposed to us will be destroyed by my iron whistle of rage. Our nation has evil in its midst, a propagandist worse than any yellow journalist could have ever imagined. In a week so slow for news, must we listen to such a glory-hungry monster? This will not be tolerated; the people have spoken, and this empire will continue to grow and prosper, while weak, big-mouthed challengers, whose bodies cannot cash the checks their mouths are writing, fall, crushed by our ever expanding empire. Side with me, and your hoop dreams will be fulfilled; side with him, and you will find yourself lied to, hurt and alone on the cold hard rec center floor
-THE Commish, Josh the First