I’m watching hockey with Laura’s family. A player gets tripped and falls into the boards. The ref blows his whistle, raises his arm, stops play and points to the offender. He lowers his head and glides over to the penalty box.
Laura’s Mom: So the zebra shirt just made the white shirted thug go sit in the naughty chair?
Me: The naughty chair? For lack of a better term, yeah.