Game 22, 2020-21
I get a call at 4pm. Can I referee a men's game at 8? It's raining and cold and it's almost November, and I'd planned to be on the sofa watching Rangers v Lech Poznan in the Europa League. I know, the wild life I lead. But I say yes because I'm useless at saying no. After I hang up, I get the e-mail and I see the teams, and there I see his name. He's listed as a substitute, assistant coach and team manager for the away side. Oh joy, oh joy, it's my lovely Danny boy.
Missing this, but later sharing the same emotion |
As I did at the weekend, I speak to both trainers about the need for absolute peace on the field, and that I will call off the game if a single player screams anywhere close to my face. At the toss-up, I check with both captains that the teams have got the message. They have. Off we go.
Those lads who were so bolshie, macho and aggressive in the U19s are remarkably quiet now that they are playing with men, not boys. They are also getting spanked. By half-time they are 4-1 down, troubling the scoreboard only thanks to a clumsy own goal from the home team. So, at half-time, three players are subbed out. Danny's time has come to turn the game around as a striker...
I was trawling around that little big thing that some like to call the Interweb when I chanced upon this page, which led to multiple enjoyable reads and quite a few laughs from me. Thank you for adding a little enjoyment to my evening with your well written work.
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