Bill Vinovich, The Referee Whose Crew Forever Stained Super Bowl LIII, Is Also A Thin-Skinned College Basketball Official
My first instinct was to crucify the most well-to-do league in all the land for hiring part-time, two-sport referees to officiate the most intricate of athletics on one of its biggest and most consequential stages. After all, as the saying goes, "jackass of all trades, master of none". However, being that what's done is done, I'd actually rather Bill Vinovich continue to get airtime after the NFL season reaches a conclusion he made damn sure to be tainted. Lord knows his primary employer doesn't have the testicular fortitude to throw him under the bus, so the best the Saints and their fans can hope for is as many drive-by shoutings at possible.
The only three people on the entire planet who didn't immediately recognize that play as pass interference happened to be staring directly at it, with whistles tucked up their tight little sphincters, from between 5-35 feet away. I'm no mathematician, but I'm going to say the odds of that are a little too low for it to be a coincidence, so the non-call heard round the world was more a result of a chicken-shit motive than any sort of mistake.
For that reason, I hope Bill Vinovich and Co. get shamed back into the hole their heads might as well have been in as they robbed the New Orleans Saints of a Super Bowl appearance. It's definitely petty for a frustrated fanbase/franchise to hope that one play haunts them for the rest of their undeniably disgraced careers, but at least they'll know the feeling as that same play is going to haunt said fanbase/franchise throughout the remainder of its history.
So for those that might happen to stumble upon Bill Vinovich reffing basketball, or buying groceries, or quietly having a cup of coffee, or attending the funeral of his professional reputation, don't be shy in reminding him of his unforgivable fuck-up. Might seem a bit harsh...until you realize there's an entire Who Dat Nation that still can't turn on the TV, pick up their phone, leave the house, or close their damn eyes without being painfully reminded of it.