They didn’t want to hear about individual plays or players, thrilling finishes, overtime heroics or even my split-second, game-changing decisions. They wanted to hear about the technical fouls I had whistled. In minute detail. He/she said, you said kind of stuff.

For those who don’t know, technical fouls are penalties issued by referees to players and coaches for bad behavior. Often, but not always, it’s something they said to me or suggested I do of a grotesque anatomical nature.

A “technical “ or “T” prompts, by rule, a two-foul-shot penalty. Two “T’s” earn an automatic disqualification for that game. Some school districts tack on additional eligibility sanctions.

More often than not, I disappointed my eager inquisitors. I administered what I consider relatively few technicals over more than 50 years of blowing whistles in high school and amateur leagues in Dunkirk, Fredonia, Gowanda, Silver Creek, Ripley and elsewhere. Some years I failed to “T-up” anyone.

Blowing the whistle was a necessary part of my job as a basketball referee. Issuing technical fouls not so much.

Maturity and selective hearing helped skew the majority of my technicals to my early years as a referee.

As a baseball umpire, I had few ejections, relying chiefly on stern warnings to keep the peace.

Coaches knew they were not allowed to argue balls and strikes. Other decisions — fair or foul, out or safe, catch or no catch, could be appealed, respectfully, to my partner.

If a rule was misapplied or ignored, a protest could be filed. A third party, usually a rules interpreter, would then make a final decision. If the umpires were wrong, the game would be replayed from the point of protest. Often uncompensated.

On the volleyball court, coaches are all but forbidden to communicate directly with the first official who is stationed above the net. They instead relied on their player captain to discuss rules and rulings with the match official.

I remember issuing only one red card penalty (one point) in my many years in volleyball. That was to silence an overly animated junior varsity coach who ignored repeated warnings. Volleyball is a very civil sport. Basketball not so much.

The very final technical foul I issued happened in Forestville, where I had refereed countless games. It was a junior varsity boys game. The visiting team, based on won-loss records, was the overwhelming favorite.

Well, the visitors played poorly that night and allowed the opportunistic Hornets to take the lead in the late stages of the game.

A foul made things worse for the visitors and their coach loudly commented on my allegedly “terrible” call. I didn’t react. He was merely frustrated with his team’s poor play.

Next time down the court I whistled another foul, this one a disqualifying fifth foul on the visitors’ best player.

After walking to the scoring table to report the foul, I had to momentarily wait for a replacement player to legally report and enter the court.

As I stood at midcourt, the visiting coach yelled to me, “Hey, ref. Hey, ref.”

Realizing his team was about to lose, he moved several steps away from his team bench area to greet some parents who were just arriving for the varsity game.

Standing amid this group, he then sarcastically added, “That call was worse than the last one!”

He and his supporters found this highly amusing and they laughed in unison.

That was more than enough for me. He was noticeably away from his designated coaching area and complaining about multiple calls. That’s a double no-no. And worse, he had deliberately tried to embarrass me. Multiple grounds for penalty, I reasoned.

He was visibly shaken by the “T” I immediately directed his way.

“What did I do?” he then wanted to know. “I didn’t swear. I’ve never gotten a technical in my entire career. I don’t deserve this. What exactly did I do?” he whined incredulously and pathetically.

I felt he deserved a reply and answered, “Unsportsmanlike conduct. Now, please sit down.”

I think it finally registered that he had gone way too far and he remained quiet, and seated, for the remainder of the game.

Meanwhile, I earned an enthusiastic thumbs up from my grinning fellow referee. That’s the highest compliment a referee can receive.

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Bill Hammond is a former EVENING OBSERVER sports editor.