My tipping point, and a call for positive action to protect amateur referees

Game 33, 2021-22

For five and a half seasons this blog has been documenting abusive, insulting and disrespectful behaviour in and around the city where it referees amateur and youth football. At some point, though, merely describing what's going on - and it's not just in my games, it's universal - is insufficient. The time has conclusively come to take a stance. 

Myself and a small group of local referees are working on a list of demands and proposed actions to try and tackle the endemic problems in amateur football that have escalated to the point where every weekend brings some form of trouble, even in the quietest games. What can be done to curb the dissent, the tantrums, the threats and the all-round prevalence of unpleasant attitude and total lack of sporting enjoyment? One thing is clear - posters saying 'Respect!' and 'Thanks, ref!' are not doing the job, whatever their grandiose, committee-endorsed intentions.

After dozens of negative and hair-raising experiences, my personal tipping point came a week ago. A month back, I'd refereed a boys' U17 match which ended with a number of players on the losing team insulting me and screaming at me after the final whistle. I walked through the cacophony without reacting, but noted the numbers of the players and duly wrote up a disciplinary report that same Saturday evening when I would rather have been doing something more relaxing (they have to be submitted "within 24 hours" of the final whistle). As usual, I heard nothing back. The team in question didn't play for another three weeks. But when they did play, all three players that I'd named in the disciplinary report were in the starting line-up. There had been no punishments at all for 16-year-olds screaming indiscriminately at a referee, frustrated at their loss in a game they'd expected to win (with no intervention from their coach - a fellow referee, by the way).

Even on quiet days, negativity's the norm

Games 31-32, 2021-22

A few weeks back I wrote about a generally toxic boys' U19 game where the home team passed up the chance to be good sports by admitting that a goal scored by their opponents had actually gone in (but back out through a hole in the net). Later, one of their players received a straight red card for violent conduct. It was the team's last game. They withdrew from that league a week later and all their results were annulled.

It was no surprise. The trainers seemed indifferent to the team they were coaching, and that was reflected in the players' attitude. Numerous U19 teams drop out in the course of any given season because there's not much more to play for - no more promotions to a higher level, for example. Even the most deluded players have realised by now that they're not going to play at a professional or even semi-pro level, while the distractions of exams, relationships and the imminent prospect of possibly leaving home and starting a new life all mean that football is pushed down their priority list. Why bother showing up for another six months in a losing team with no sense of spirit or togetherness when you can quit now and enjoy a few extra free Saturdays...

The Art of Instant Conflict Management - one ref's approach

Game 30, 2021-22

An elderly spectator comes up to me at half-time as I'm on my way to the dressing room. That's not always a good thing, and after today's testy first 45 minutes I'm expecting a strong opinion - there have been two penalties for handball offences, four yellow cards, and a time penalty for a player on the home team, during which the away team took advantage of its extra man to equalise. Score: 2-2. But the gentleman only has encouraging words: "When you took the two players off to one side there for a talk, that was great - well done."

He's referring to a typical scene that seems to play out now in every game, regardless of level or age group (with the exception of the U11/U12 games I recently reffed). Two players go for the ball, one of them commits a foul, the other has something to say about it, the fouler makes a comment back, and then they're both squaring up and pushing each other in the chest. WHO FACKIN' WANTS SOME???? And then comes the bandy-legged old ref with his whistle, ordering them both off to one side and on to the naughty step. I want them to feel like this is a visit to the headmaster's office. The good thing is that my speech is so well honed by now that I don't even need to think about it.

The first task, though, is to get one or both of them to shut up. Just like in the school yard, they want to let you know that it's the other guy's fault. "Ref, he said, he did blah blah blah." I interrupt this infantile babble with, "Quiet, I'm the only one talking here!" Then off I go: "Are you both off your heads?" (I like to act a little outraged, like this is the first - rather than the 500th. - time I've seen such a scene on a football field.) "You realise this is a football match, right? So make a decision, do you want to stay on here and play football, or do you want to act like idiots? If it's the latter, you can get on with your moronic macho posturing in the club-house for all I care. On here, we're playing football." By now, both players should be nodding. I stop talking, whip the yellow card out of my left pocket, and raise it twice as the concluding choreography to my short one-act play.

The amateur ref's version of VAR

Games 27-29, 2021-22

Although I despise the Video-Assistant Referee (VAR) when it cancels out goals for fractional offsides not visible to the human eye, I'm a big fan of it in certain situations of clear injustice. This is especially applicable to penalties, which are in any case inherently unjust - an innocuous foul close to the edge of the penalty area doesn't deserve the same punishment as a deliberate handball on the goal-line (but that's an argument for another day). When a game-changing decision is reversed thanks to close-up proof of an ankle-tap or a dive, then it's certainly to the benefit of football, and serves to smother at least some of the toxic anger aimed at referees for controversial calls.

Of course, amateur referees have no VAR, as we'll often sardonically point out to players in the thralls of protest and gesticulation. Sometimes, though, we have other clues and pointers when we're uncertain. On throw-ins and corner-kicks, for example, when two players have challenged for the ball and you're unsure who touched it last, you can often tell from the players' body language which way to point. If the attacker runs off to retrieve the ball and the defender runs back to the six-yard box to defend the corner-kick, then you know for sure they were the last player to touch the ball. (But if they both yell, "Corner!/Goal kick!" at the same time, then you just have to make a wild guess, while looking bold and full of conviction.)

Anyway, in the second half of a level 8 men's game, with the hosts leading 2-0, I'm caught out of position by a long punt that launches a swift counter-attack by the home team. As two players challenge for an aerial ball on the edge of the away team's penalty area (I'm probably just over the halfway line by now), the defender climbs all over the forward's back and flattens him. It's such a clear foul that the defender and forward are both laughing as they help each other back up. The question, though - was it in the area or out? Quite simply, I'm too far off the play to see for sure, but my initial reaction is to whistle and point to the penalty spot...

Another fraught episode of the Refereeing Reality Show

Games 23-26, 2021-22

Some weekends I feel like I'm living in a referee's version of The Truman Show, and that the games I'm assigned are merely staged to provoke drama for the sake of my viewing figures and the delight of a sofa-based audience high on popcorn and catastrophe. I already knew before Sunday's game (26) - a Level 8 local diaspora derby between two clubs not known for taking a placid approach to sport - that it would be a tough afternoon. Even with all my experience of football in this city, though, I wasn't expecting enough material for a five-act play. A sole blog entry can barely do this game justice. I'll try to stick to the highlights.

1. The Suspended Player. The away team's side includes a player (the number 3) I red-carded back in August. One of the team officials recognises me before the match, and while we chat I ask him how long the player was suspended for. Six weeks, he replies, and the club only let him return after that because he'd begged them and pleaded for mercy - this red card hadn't been his first. "He's a good player but has absolutely no mental control," is the club official's assessment. Curiously, just before kick-off, another of the away team's officials asks me if I can make the player's name 'non-public' in the match report. Why? "He just doesn't want his name out there." Hmmm, okay.

2. The Brothers. There's a brother on each team, and this is the first time they've ever played against each other. "I promised our mum I would take him out with a wild tackle - just once," the older one says. "He needs taking down a peg or two." All in jest, of course. But just to be on the safe side I say, "Of course you can, as long as you don't mind taking the yellow card that comes with it." A very 'ref' thing to say - I'm great fun at parties, honest. 

3. The Crowd. There are over 300 spectators in the small ground. It's the same place where I reffed The Game From Hell. It's also the place where I oversaw the expulsion of several spectators a few years back during a reserve team game, for anti-Semitic abuse aimed at the city's only Jewish team. It's compulsory for clubs to designate two stewards in yellow jackets to keep order. Today there are five.

4. The Opening Minute. The home team's number 7 scores within seconds of the start, but he's offside. There's no dispute about the decision, but he immediately gets into a verbal and physical confrontation with his direct opponent, who is... the number 3 (see above). "Is there a problem here already?" I ask. Instead of shaking hands and assuring me there's not, they keep arguing. I show them both yellow cards. The game is 40 seconds old...

"I'm a ref too!" Not today, coach. Plus: foul mouths, foul play, foul weather

Games 20-22, 2021-22

A lot of tales to get through, so we'll take it match by match:

Game 20: Boys U11 cup. At half-time the home team's coach tries to pull rank on me. "I referee at [such and such] level, and that was a clear penalty we should have had." For the record, it wasn't a penalty, I was two yards away from it. Much more importantly, don't pull that 'I'm a referee too' shit when you're coaching, except to offer support. Tonight you're the coach, I'm the ref. (A colleague later looks him up online - he refs no higher than kids' soccer, so he's a liar as well as a... whatever you classify people as who pull rank in a patronising manner.)

He could do with paying more attention to his coaching. Twice I have 10-year-olds from his team insolently disputing decisions, and his goalkeeper kicks the ball away to waste time. The disease of dissent is seeping down the age groups, but there are no cards at this level so I'm left with three short, stern lectures. But those lectures need to be coming from the coach, not me. From the opponents, though, a kid comes up to me and says very humbly, "I think you may have made a mistake on that corner kick." And, very politely, I explain back that due to the nature of the deflection, I did not. Cute.

Final score: 2-2 (5-6 after penalties - the time-wasting by the keeper didn't work, his team conceded a late equaliser. Football crime doesn't pay, kids!)

Game 21: Boys U19 on a notoriously filthy field that's already hosted a game today, so it's bumpy, muddy and slippery. Best just to cut straight to the disciplinary report...

The perpetual question for amateur referees: "Why the fuck do I bother?"

Games 18-19, 2021-22

Lock him up.

Imagine you're reading a book, sitting peacefully on a bench by a quiet river on a still afternoon, when someone stops in front of you and starts to yell in your face, "Ian McEwan? IAN FUCKING MCEWAN? What are you reading that shit for, you idiot - you should be reading David Keenan's This Is Memorial Device!" Or you're hiking the Pennine Way from Steel Rig to Bellingham when another walker stops you and screams, "You didn't take the detour for the view from Cuddy Crags, and to look at the excavated Roman fort at Housesteads? WHAT THE FUCK IS THE MATTER WITH YOU?"

I'm just trying to think of another hobby apart from refereeing where you'd have to put up with a similar level of loud verbal abuse. Just recently I'd had a run of games which - while they were not exactly peaceful- were definitely under control, and I was really starting to enjoy football again. Then came a match last Thursday night that set me back and left me feeling crushed. As I wrote in a somewhat tired and frustrated state after the game on Twitter: "An absolutely miserable men's game tonight - fouling, moaning about every decision, diving, players squaring up, spurious offside appeals. Back to the basic question: why the fuck do I bother?" 

The tweet has had an unprecedented 57 'likes' (roughly ten times my average), which suggests that it resonated among fellow refs. I'd just come off filing the statutory match report (goal scorers, substitutions, cautions etc.), but had opted against a disciplinary report because I was mentally exhausted. But there's also a section in the report for 'Particular Incidents'. We've been expressly told not to write about disciplinary matters in this box because it's supposed to be for irregularities with player passes, serious injuries etc., but I was in the mood to vent, so I wrote the following:

"Massive bundle in the 75th. minute...

The tragi-comic cries of an attention-seeking coach

Games 16-17, 2021-22

It was a clear and chill autumn weekend, and I really enjoyed both games that I refereed, but there was one disturbing factor in the boys' U19 game on Saturday - the away team's assistant coach. As I wrote in the inevitable disciplinary report, I wasn't quite sure what his role with the team was supposed to be, besides 'designated referee heckler'. His entire performance felt like something out of a comedy sketch show, where the repetitive absurdity of a personality disorder is played for laughs.

It starts with a yellow card for the away team's number 12 for a tactical foul on the quarter-hour mark, a clear and uncontested call. Except for the above-mentioned assistant coach, who starts yelling about this or that foul I supposedly haven't called for his team. I ignore his protests, but when I notice that the number 12 was listed as starting on the bench, I go over to ask whom he replaced in the starting XI. "I don't know," says the assistant coach dismissively, and continues instead to rant on about the injustice of the caution. I ask him to stop, but he doesn't, so I show him the yellow card.

This causes him to have an almighty row with the team's head coach. The now steaming and indignant assistant pulls on his jacket and demonstratively strides for the exit, which would have been the best possible solution all round. But then he comes back and stands on the touchline again...

What's the best position for corner kicks?

Game 15, 2021-22

After refereeing in the US for years on teams with three officials, I came to Germany seven years ago to find that due to parsimony and a chronic shortage of willing whistlers, thousands of youth and amateur games every weekend were staffed by a single referee. Among the several problems that presented (offside decisions being the main one) was the conundrum of where to stand at corner kicks.

During the very first game I reffed in this country, I was standing on the edge of the penalty area for a corner, slightly to the left of the goal. The ball was crossed, headed out, and a player shot from about 15 yards out. The shot either hit the angle of post and cross-bar, or momentarily entered the goal and came back out off the stanchion. The attacking team shouted 'Goal!' The defending team shouted back 'No way!' I shouted, 'Play on!' but to this day I have no idea if that was the right call or not. No one made a big fuss about it and the game continued - I think everyone else was just as clueless as I was.

Thank you very much for the early yellow

Games 12-14, 2021-22

Three very quiet matches in a row, perhaps due to them all being one-sided, but also helped in two games by me being able to set the tone for the 90 minutes. That is, the players give me the perfect opportunity to show an early yellow.

Both are boys' U19 games, the first one a cup quarter-final. A home defender strongly disagrees with my throw-in call just five minutes into the game, cursing and throwing the ball down hard against the ground. Young man, that's not the kind of behaviour we want to see here tonight, I say loudly (and much less diplomatically), so that players and spectators alike get the message. In the book he goes, and he's the only one of the night until a team-mate joins him five minutes before the end, for the same offence. Having made the decision to be ruthless on dissent this season, the yellow card now comes out of the pocket without me stopping to think about its necessity. It's the Law, lad.

In game 13, it's a hard, late challenge from an away team defender in the third minute, but initially I play advantage because the ball has run onto an attacker in space. That move fizzles out, but the ball stays in play for a good two minutes. I'd planned to show the defender the yellow card at the next stoppage, but then I start to doubt the decision. Will anyone even remember the offence by then? The more time you have to think about a decision, the harder it can be to decide if it's the right one. Ask any VAR.

All the Crap and the Chaos: one weekend in the life of an amateur referee

Games 10-11, 2021-22

"Calm the fuck down..." (pic: Natascha Lotze)

Saturday 4pm. Boys U19 match in the city's east park. It's a beautiful autumn day, there are multiple pick-up games, families grilling food, dog-walkers and drinkers hanging out at the kiosk. The home club is friendly, the away team remembers me too. I've not given a penalty all season, but towards the end of the first half the home team gets two in three minutes, both of them unnecessary fouls, and both greeted without a single complaint. The only other incident of note is when a home player yells at me after he's been fouled and I've already whistled for the free-kick. His coach tells him to calm down, I give him a yellow and a stern ticking off. A mostly fair and stress-free game. Pay: €14.

6.48pm. Tomorrow I'm due to ref a men's game in another city at 3pm. I receive an e-mail from one of my assignors saying that "unfortunately, we're losing refs in droves, so I'm asking you to take on a youth game tomorrow morning at 11am, otherwise this game won't be covered. Lots of other refs are doing two games tomorrow." I write back pointing out the physical impossibility of me finishing that game at 1pm and then making it to a different city in time for kick-off at 3pm. I don't hear back from him, but am left somehow feeling guilty that I've turned him down...

Owning up to a major mistake

Game 9, 2021-22

When the coach is screaming at you, there are usually two options. Either ignore him (it's always a him), or card him. Sometimes, though, there is a third option, though it's not the ideal path. You try and talk to him and justify your decision. Because perhaps you already know on some level that you fucked up.

It's the second half of a boys' U13 game, and so far everything's been quiet. The away team is leading 1-0, and is clearly the better side. On a rare home team attack, though, a forward is through on goal on the right side of the penalty area and tries to lift the ball over the keeper. His lob is so hopelessly wide that the ball remains in play out on the left side. I keep my eye on the arc of the ball (an error), and only see out of the corner of my vision that the goalkeeper has crashed into the forward. The home coach screams for a penalty, but I'm already following the play. When the forward doesn't stand up, I stop play and wave the coach on to treat him.

As he's tending to his forward, he has some strong words about the challenge. My main concern is the player's health, and so I ignore the penalty issue. The player's okay to continue, though he's a little shaken, and I re-start the game with a drop ball.

The home team loses 2-0, and after the game the home coach comes over to say thanks and bump fists. It's me that brings the penalty incident up, not him. "I didn't give a penalty because I saw it as a collision between the two players..." I start, but he interrupts me, suddenly incensed again, and says, "The keeper laid my player out flat. It was a clear penalty." And he leaves it at that. As I walk back to the club house, I start to admit to myself that he's right. I've given decisions like that before against goalkeepers, and I can't explain why I didn't give it today...

"Ref, why?" When players are baffled by their own poor conduct

Games 7-8, 2021-22

Twenty minutes into a boys' U19 game, and I blow for offside against the home team's number 15. His reaction is to kick the ball far out of play, and so - predictably enough - I show him a yellow card. He looks at me all hurt and confused, like a rabbit whose previously loving owner has just shown him a pot of simmering stock and invited him to take a seat on the chopping board. "What was that for?"

Every week, players demonstrate how clueless they are about the laws of the game. Rather than sitting down to read them (you may be unsurprised to know that they are available for free on the global information network), they prefer to learn by a slow process of accumulating cautions. 'Delaying a restart' is a particularly common bone of contention, because for some reason players think that prodding the ball away from an opponent before they have the chance to take a throw-in or free-kick is absolutely normal practice and totally permissible. Perhaps they've seen it go unpunished on TV a few thousand times (thanks again to our wonderful pro refs for setting a great example for the amateur game. See also: Dissent).

Here are some other aghast reactions for yellow cards, from this one weekend alone:

Example 2: Unsporting Conduct. Two teenagers square up and exchange loud and rowdy words with each other, a sight as common in this city as pigeons shitting on a window ledge...

A purgative storm and the preacher referee

Game 6, 2021-22

Sometimes it feels like the Gods are delivering their own kind of verdict on the games that I referee. With around 15 minutes left to play on this sultry Sunday afternoon, the clouds burst and unload, there's an impressive drum-roll of judgmental thunder right above our heads, and then the conclusive blast of my whistle as I direct both teams to run for the changing rooms. Part of me's hoping that the rest of the day's a washout.

The first half passed without too much incident. There was one yellow card against the home team for a reckless foul, and three very well taken goals by the visiting number nine. A 'crystal-pure' hat-trick, as the Germans call it - three consecutive goals by one player, all scored in the same half. There's been nothing crystal pure about the second half, though. Fouls have turned niggly and deliberate, players have thrown themselves to the floor with the stricken cries of circus thespians, and there have been three major arguments, resulting in a flurry of cautions for poor conduct and a series of short lectures about keeping a lid on it...

Some days this 'shit job' is a breeze

Game 5, 2021-22

Before leaving the house, I spend an hour reading the newspaper. The Taliban is marching unhindered on Kabul, taking us back to square one after 20 years of death and futility. The two sides in the Ethiopian civil war are gearing up for the next round of conflict. Floods and serial wildfires around the globe are still not sparking the necessary political will to save our planet. I fold up the paper and cycle off to referee a game between two of the city's diaspora sides, who once formed part of the same country. Within living memory, they engaged in a war that cost an estimated 22,000 lives before two new states were formed - Serbia and Croatia. 

There are several teams in our city formed by exiles from the former Yugoslavia. Some were founded by migrant workers in the 1970s, others came into existence later as a result of the various population-shifting conflicts that hit the state during its 1990s break-up. One of today's teams was formed in 1973, and became a go-to club for Serbian immigrants. Their opponents were originally a pan-Yugoslavian side, but became a Croatian club in the 1990s, prompting their Serbian members to leave for the other team. The city's 'Balkan derbies' during that decade could attract crowds several hundred strong.

It's always worth doing your research, but it's even more important to approach a game without expectations, be they good or bad. True, I once refereed a cup tie here between teams from a region of historical conflict that for 90 minutes teetered on the verge of something much more than a game of football. But the only thing awaiting me at today's game is a journalist from a Serbian newspaper published for the ex-pat community. He wants to know if he can take a picture of both teams together before kick-off. If they're on board, you certainly don't need my permission, I tell him. I also take a snapshot of the two teams (above), who then all shake hands in the centre circle - which we're no longer supposed to do because of Covid, but this seems like a worthy exception...

Out of nowhere, violent words and conduct. What brought *that* on?

Game 4, 2021-22

In my day job I've been editing an interview with a scientist who works in anti-doping research. The scientist estimated that the number of young men taking anabolic steroids runs into the hundreds of thousands - somewhere between half a million and 700,000. He didn't say what geographical area that estimate covers, but even if it's the entire world the numbers are still way too high. The damaging and often deadly side-effects of anabolic steroids far outweigh the 'benefit' of temporarily boosting your muscle mass.

One of the many negative side-effects of abusing steroids is a marked increase in aggressive behaviour, and I began to wonder if there's a connection between steroid consumption and the high number of young men I see suddenly lose a grip on their tempers during amateur football games. I thought about it even more following an ugly incident just before half-time in yesterday's game.

Up until then, it had been a quiet friendly between two level 8 men's teams. I like this level, because everyone can play and there are generally fewer fouls. The players are more skilful, more savvy, and better disciplined. True, the home defence complained loudly about a non-existent offside when they went 2-0 down after ten minutes, but I nipped the dissent in the bud with an early yellow, and that was it for the day. Instead of trying to play a dubious offside trap in a game with no ARs, they stopped moaning and dropped a player back into the sweeper position.

Then, with the score at 1-3 on 43 minutes, the home team's number 11 took out the away team's number 17 with a robust challenge in the centre circle. I was about five yards away, so immediately blew for the free-kick. I was ready to have a strong...

10-minute time-out strikes the perfect balance between yellow and red

Game 3, 2021-22

The home team's number 7 is the key creative force in his side's central midfield. Just before half-time, with his team 2-0 down, he goes on a long run through the middle and then passes to a team-mate on the edge of the penalty area. The striker's shot is parried by the keeper, but the number 7 follows up and heads in the rebound. Half-time: 1-2. And what will happen during half-time, as sure as floods and fires in a twenty-first century summer? The away team's coach will tell his team's midfield and defence not to let that happen again. 

How to stop the number 7? Start fouling him every time he embarks on a dribble. Despite the opposition's best efforts, he often escapes with the ball anyway and I play advantage. The fouls that succeed are the tugs and obstructions, not quite enough for a yellow card until they accumulate to a persistent pattern of targeting this single player. It ends with the away team's number six going in way too hard, the number 7 goes down with a shout of pain (though he doesn't require treatment), and the home team and its fans are morally outraged. The tackle also thwarts a promising attack.

Yellow or red? I feel the foul deserves more than a yellow given its severity and location about 40 yards from goal, but that red for this particular player would be too harsh - he hasn't been dirty so far. In our state - on a trial basis for the next three years - we now have an alternative: the time penalty. So I send the number 6 off for a ten-minute spell on the bench. Only the player

Refereeing while injured

Games 1-2, 2021-22

I feel the hamstring in my right leg twitch around 30 minutes into the first game of the weekend. As a player, the troublesome muscle rarely allowed me such a warning, usually it just twanged like an eager rascal's catapult. But I can't just walk off and announce that I'm going to put my feet up with an ice-pack and a six-pack. There are no second, third or fourth officials to take my place.

Instead, I adjust my game. Instead of running with the play, I walk and occasionally trot from side to side to make sure that I have the best view of the ball and the players challenging for it, regardless of how far away they are. The hamstring perseveres with its cautionary twinges as my ageing body tells me that I need to rest. Still, the unruly muscle keeps itself in check until half-time.

At the interval, I massage the back of my upper leg with heat cream, pull on a hamstring support, and swallow two glucose

Please, no. Not Eye of the ****ing Tiger

Game 24, 2020-21

"Nooooooooo!" It's still 40 minutes to kick off, but already I'm in mental agony. My changing room is next door to the away team, and they're playing motivational warm-up music. There seem to be only two criteria for such music - it has to be blasted out at an intrusively loud volume on a below-par sound system, and the choice of song has to be the most unimaginative shite with the perceived widest appeal. In today's case, Eye of the fucking Tiger. They can't hear my cri de coeur, of course, because Eye of the fucking Tiger is way too loud. I can't stress enough how much I hate this song. That dumb, macho opening riff I've heard 25,000 times too often. The whiney vocals. The asinine lyrics. And then everything else about it, which sticks in my poor, suffering head for the entire first half. 

If the International Football Association Board gave me free rein to add just one law to the game, any law, then it would be this: "Teams playing loud pre-match motivational music that annoys the ref will be issued with a collective eleven yellow cards prior to kick-off. No exceptions. Should that pre-match music consist of Survivor's Eye of the Tiger, those cards will be red, the game will be abandoned, and the opposing team awarded a 25-0 win. The ref shall be permitted to access the offending team's changing room with a heavy hammer to attack the source of the music and render it beyond further sonic re-production."

I think that's reasonable. It certainly makes a lot more sense than the comical handball law IFAB's now had to retract and pretty much restore to its original state...

After an eight-month break, back to foul play and hot tempers

Game 23, 2020-21

First game for eight months, a boys U19 friendly. The pandemic's second wave is over, while the third one (driven by the Delta variant) is not forecast to hit Germany for another two months. It's been humid and in the mid-30s all week, the worst kind of weather for outdoor sport. The back-end of June seems an odd time to be re-starting play. But these are odd times. It's still the 20-21 season, but really we're preparing for 21-22. In the meantime, I've been 'training' by watching the referees in the European Championships, who - aside from being too lenient on dissent - have been doing an excellent job.

The home team wants to play three halves (2 x 45 minutes, plus an extra 30 minutes) because they have so many players. It's okay with me, but their opponents, with a squad of 16, say they'll decide after the 90 minutes are up. That makes sense, given the weather. Kick-off is delayed because the German FA's software won't accommodate more than 11 subs. When that's finally sorted out, I start the game and soon we're back to normal - two yellow cards in the first seven minutes. The first is for a tactical foul, the second is when the away team's goalkeeper up-ends a home forward who's about to score. At half-time, the home team's assistant coach wants to know why it wasn't red. "He made an attempt to play the ball," I say. He doesn't think much of that explanation. Some rule changes can take years to seep through into the consciousness of players and coaches...