IM refs have the power all of us crave. So much that I decided to infiltrate their society of officials. With the help of a rogue ref, for his safety I will keep his identity a secret, yet he is known as D-Race. The officials meet every Thursday night following the last of the games, in an old abandoned locker room of IM West. The directions were clear from D-Race...The outfit black and white striped shirt, whistle, yellow flag, black shorts "NO POCKETS", and black shoes. Once you reach the door the password is "Illegal Contact". Following D-Race's directions I was able to pass and granted access to the most prestigious organization on campus. As I entered the room, I could hardly see as the room was filled with cigar smoke. A majority refs were playing cards as I passed by and the rest seemed to fill the make shift bar. I popped a squat next to a group of frazzled refs comparing how many times they were cursed out during the game. Drinking was the only way to forget the struggles of the night. As I screened the room a man sitting in the corner drew my attention, so I asked "What's up with him?" "That's Tony," responded one of the refs, "He missed a call in the IFC championship 5 years ago and now suffers from PTRD,Post Traumatic Reffing Disorder." The more I talked to the refs, the more I learned what a toll it takes on the body and mind. Which is why there are so many new refs every year.