The Wall Street Journal published an interesting feature over the weekend on a veteran National Basketball Association referee who went to seminary and became a Catholic deacon.

Overall, I enjoyed the piece. I’d encourage you to read it.

But it’s one of those features where I finished reading it and wasn’t totally satisfied. I still had unanswered questions. And yes, they related to the religious nitty-gritty. I’ll explain more in a moment.

First, though, let’s set the scene with the lede:

Near the end of his long career as an NBA referee, Steve Javie took a summer vacation with his wife. They decided to burn his unholy amount of frequent-flier miles and Marriott points on a trip to Saint Thomas. He was thinking about retirement, and this seemed like an ideal place to settle down. Javie could play golf, hit the beach and live in a tropical paradise.

It did not quite work out that way. Instead he would spend the next seven years committing himself to Catholicism.

"The calling comes and you go, 'Uh oh, I gotta listen,' " he said.

Javie officiated his last NBA game in 2011. He soon began studying at his local seminary. He was recently ordained as a deacon by the Archdiocese of Philadelphia. And this unexpected turn of events is how he found himself in church one Sunday morning wearing elaborate vestments to deliver a homily. He began with a confession.

"I'm a sports guy," he said.

Keep reading, and the Journal offers more background on Javie’s referee career as well as his high-profile ongoing gig as ESPN’s rules analyst.

Then the story returns to some crucial religion details:

The idea of becoming an actual deacon was not something that crossed his mind until very recently. As he put it: "My Bible used tobe the sports page."

But his old colleagues insist the man they used to call "Father Javie" was unusually qualified for this unlikely vocation. He wasn't just a sports guy. He was also a religious guy.

When a bum knee forced Javie to hang up his whistle at the age of 56, he needed something else to do, and his friends were not entirely surprised when Javie decided to spend his retirement becoming a deacon. They knew that he attended daily Mass and had become more devout toward the end of his career. What did shock them was how long it would take to make a lifetime commitment.

A few paragraphs later, this helpful context is presented:

There are nearly 20,000 deacons in the U.S., and they have many of the same responsibilities as priests. They even agree to a vow of celibacy if their wives predecease them. Javie is a typical deacon in most ways: 95% are older than 50 and 92% are married, according to U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops data. But in some ways, he's an outlier: 11% have graduate degrees, and closer to 0% are professional referees.

From there, the Journal shares more color from Javie preaching in a parish in the Philly suburbs and ends with a faith-oriented anecdote.

So, what’s missing? Why wasn’t I totally percent pleased with the story?

Honestly, I’m not certain why I can’t give it a 100 percent positive review. But I think it boils down to this: I never really got the feeling that the Journal dug deep enough into the “Why?”

As in, why did a veteran NBA referee feel a calling to become a deacon? Yes, there’s the “I gotta listen” quote up high. But is this life-changing decision that required seven years of studies really no deeper than that? Is there really not a more moving or emotional story than that?

Perhaps the place to start answering that question would be to ask more questions about his faith journey. The Journal indicates that Javie attended daily Mass even in his past career. Why? What inspired him to do that? Did he grow up Catholic?

The piece indicates that he “had become more devout toward the end of his career.” What exactly does that mean — to become more devout? How does that manifest itself? And again, why did that happen? What was the motivation? The inspiration?

Bottom line: We know that a veteran referee became a deacon, and some vague faith experience prompted it. But I want to know more. I feel like we’ve got a two-dimensional story when I have a feeling there’s a more colorful, three-dimensional version that could have been told.