Tony Ugoh was a raw rookie tackle when the Indianapolis Colts’ offseason workout program began in 2007. His first day in the offensive line meeting room was instructive.

It also was expensive.

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“The veterans were like, hey, rooks, go get us some water,” Ugoh recalled. "I turned around and there’s a water jug in the room. I didn’t know any better, so I said, ’There’s a dispenser back there.’

“That was my first fine. I learned real quick to shut up. Then I got fined for not saying anything. I got fined for not having enough fines.”

Offensive line justice is swift and sure. Draw a penalty or blow an assignment, and it will cost you. Whiff on a block or allow a sack, and it will cost you. Game-day fines are higher than practice levies.

Tell a bad joke or a boring story, and there’s a fine. Do something stupid or embarrassing or that can in any way be deemed to have reflected dishonorably on the offensive line, and it will cost you.

If it’s laughable, it’s fineable. If it can be consigned to no other category, it’s “conduct unbecoming a lineman.”

“If you try to cut a guy and land on your gut and drag yourself and don’t touch him,” center Jeff Saturday said, “that’s definitely a fine. Anything that brings attention to you where people could laugh at you or you’re way below average, you’re going to get it.”

Watch the offensive line during pregame introductions. Saturday, tackles Ryan Diem and Charlie Johnson and guards Ryan Lilja and Mike Pollak don’t take the field individually to bathe in the applause and adulation. They emerge from the tunnel as a group, anonymously.

All for one. One for all. The O-line is the collective over the individual, the line over the lineman. It functions as a group, succeeds as a group, fails as a group. It is the team within the team and it reinforces its bonds and responsibilities with its own system of justice.

Like when Saturday appeared with quarterback Peyton Manning on the cover of the September issue of ESPN The Magazine.

“Unprecedented. Never seen anything like it,” Diem huffed, his voice thick with indignation. “It’s a worldwide magazine, worldwide exposure. That’s shameless self-promotion, and self-promotion is the worst offense.”

Fines start at $5 but can range far higher, depending on the offense, the offender and the mood of the court. Saturday found himself confronted by a hanging court. He was assessed the largest fine on record. Neither he nor senior members of the court would divulge the amount.

“It was big enough they put me on a payment plan,” Saturday said. “They gave me two times to pay it.”

Fines for families

Saturday can take comfort in the beneficiary of his and all O-line fines. They go to Tarik Glenn’s DREAM Alive Foundation, which identifies 21 needy families and does its best to make their Christmases brighter by providing everything from shoes and winter coats to video games.

The line comes to the celebration. It meets the families.

Glenn played from 1997-2006, the last nine years as Manning’s blind-side guardian at left tackle. He knows the court. He is a thoughtful, opinionated man and was so given to pontificating and philosophizing, his teammates called him “Taristotle” and frequently fined him for his soliloquies.

On Oct. 26, 2000, Glenn took the day off to be with his wife, Maya, who that day delivered the couple’s first child, Tarik Isiah.

He was fined $20, $10 for missing meetings and $10 for missing practice.

“Best money I ever spent,” Glenn said. “They lost one of their most consistent sources of income when I retired. They could always depend on me jumping offside once or twice a game.”

Johnson is the current secretary of the court. He records date, offense and offender in a notebook: 10/15 — Lilja, false start, practice. $10.

He also compiles evidence.

Johnson leaned forward in his seat, reached into his locker stall and retrieved three discolored pages torn from the The Indianapolis Star sports section.

“Here,” Johnson said, holding a page with a photo of Lilja and a quote from the left guard on Manning: “We’re happy to ride on his coattails.”

Lilja glanced over from the next locker.

“I got dinged for that?” he recoiled. “Sometimes you get fined and you don’t even know you got fined. Chuck’s kind of sneaky about it.”

Johnson shuffled the papers.

“Here’s one: ‘Getting to know Jamey Richard,’ " Johnson read. " ‘Question: Do you have a highlight from your rookie year? Answer: ’Every time I stepped onto the field was my highlight.’ "

“Self-promotion,” Lilja testified.

“Yep. That’s a fine,” Johnson rejoined.

Fine Club rules

They call themselves the “Fine Club” and their rules are loosely based on “Fight Club,” a 1996 novel by Chuck Palahniuk and 1999 movie by the same name.

Rule No. 1: Don’t ask questions about the fines.

Rule No. 2: Don’t ask questions about the fines.

The only acceptable defense is nolo contendere: no contest. That’s where first-year Colts guard Kyle DeVan, an effusive, good-natured refugee from the Arena Football 2 league, runs afoul.

As the junior member of the line, he fetches water. He drapes towels over chairs or in lockers. He loads and unloads his linemates’ bags on trips. He puts a double cheeseburger, or two, on the seat of every lineman for the flight home.

If he isn’t timely, he’s fined. If the cheeseburgers are cold, he’s fined. If he protests, he’s fined again.

“You don’t even get to ask,” he said.

DeVan need not concern himself, but commercial endorsements are considered self-promotion. Saturday has appeared in a number of advertisements, Penn Station and Moore Restoration Inc., among them. They pay him. He pays the fine.

Sometimes, if an endorsement is made back home during the offseason, a lineman might try to hide it. He had best hope he is not found out. Justice is harsh.

Saturday and Diem recently taped a commercial that hasn’t yet appeared. The room got word. Saturday and Diem made a full confession. They threw themselves on the mercy of the court.

This court has no mercy.

“Diem tried to buy his way out. He tried to pre-pay,” Saturday said.

“I said, ’I’ll give you $250 right now, no questions asked,’ " Diem said.

Request denied.

The amount of the fine will be determined after the Fine Club has seen the commercial and reviewed the evidence. It will be more than $250.

The O-line’s proceedings normally are confidential. The court made an exception for this story. The money goes to a good cause and although no one would reveal a total, it is substantial with fines accumulating over five months.

“We want to make a significant donation,” Johnson said. “If I don’t have enough going into November and December, I nitpick a little. I find something to fine about.”

The NFL season is a long, numbing march. The fines provide comic relief, but they also reinforce accountability, responsibility and unity. In mid-December, the line meets. Johnson goes through the book. Offenses are reviewed. Totals are tallied.

The room shakes with laughter. It is suffused with good humor, and goodwill.

Said Glenn, “There are a lot of big hearts in that room.”