Two 'friendlies', two mass confrontations

Sign at Sunday's game: "Be fair to your opponent - be fair to the ref." LOL! 

Games 38-41, 2021-22

Remember last week when I asked if there was a change in the air, just because a couple of coaches expressly thanked me for turning up? What an idiot.

Let's cut straight to game 41, between two men's Level 9 teams. Even for a partially deaf man who has left his hearing aids in the changing room because of the heavy rain, the away team is jarringly loud throughout the first half. Their coach does not for a single second desist from bellowing. The players themselves mainly yell at each other (or back at the coach), occasionally at the home team (when fouled), and on one occasion at me (yellow card. Or is it the yeller card? Boom-tish). Eventually, the captain appeals to his team, "Can we all stop yelling at each other? Let's be positive! Why can't any of you actually enjoy playing football?" I offer him a short gesture of applause, but his team-mates completely ignore him.

Before the game, we stood for a minute's silence at the request of the away team on account of a bereavement. Sixty seconds to reflect upon our mortality, and to appreciate the privilege of still being alive and fit enough to be part of the game. To place a Sunday afternoon sporting event into its true perspective. To consider that we might enjoy playing football, to cite the desperate appeal from the away team's captain. How fondly I look back at this quiet moment over the next 89 minutes.

Wait, we only played 89 minutes? Yes, we did. For the second time in four days, a mass bundle broke out right at the game's arse-end. As these were 'friendly' games, all the teams subbed out en masse at half-time. In both games, the away team's bench in the second half consisted of a critical glut of first choice players now with nothing better to do than agitate from the technical area. Sometimes, they think they're being funny - there's a lot of smart-arsed, mocking laughter. There's a whole lot of caterwauling whenever the referee's call goes against their side. There's shrill indignation at any foul committed against their team-mates. Eventually, someone insults someone else - impossible to tell who dissed who - and all of a sudden there are 50 odd people on the field all screaming and shoving each other, or holding players apart.

My reaction in both games is to blow the final whistle. In the first game on Thursday evening, this brings them to their senses as I start to walk off the field. Wait, where are you going? Me: Off home, you're all acting like idiots. Players: You mean the game's over? Me: You got it in one, lads. Bit of a shame as it was a really good contest at 6-6, with both teams going for the winner.

In Sunday's game absolutely everyone's involved, so I wait and watch for any actual punches (there are none, thankfully) until they all gradually calm down and come to their senses. Again, I think about writing up a disciplinary report. But, where to start? Who sparked it off? What exactly sparked it off? Who threw the worst insults? I've no idea, much less do I care. There are some teams with a culture of aggravation, and it's up to them to change that culture when enough players (like the away team's captain in Sunday's game) come forward and say, "I've had enough. Either we make an effort to play sport, or I'm out." I have seen at least two teams in this area who have successfully rooted out the wankers and changed their overall attitude to the way they play, and the way they interact with each other, the opposition and the referee.

As the sole neutral, I could certainly have done more to control the two situations. Both games were hard and closely fought contests, and there was the standard amount of drama - players going down howling and clutching their legs upon contact, but they were mostly helped back up with an apology and the offer of a hand. I don't think there were any actual on-field decisions that affected the atmosphere, it was mainly down to the heckling from the away bench. There were no stewards at either game. It's a friendly, you see. No need. (There were actually players complaining when I gave out yellow cards: "But it's a friendly!"). So, I could have cleared the subbed-out players to... where exactly? To stand behind the fence? Issued a collective red card and ordered them all to leave the ground? Delivered a lecture to their grinning fizzogs?

Maybe. On top of running to keep up with 22 young men at peak fitness and see if they are contravening any of Fifa's 17 Laws, do I also have to monitor every word, call and gesture from a dozen quipping miscreants on the team benches? I don't know if I'm getting paid enough for that. Plus, I still harbour a naive faith (see this column's opening line) that things won't escalate. That most people will behave in a decent manner, and that we'll get along and through the 90 minutes. Remember, it's only a friendly.

"Good thing we weren't playing for points today," I chirp to the home team on Sunday after their opponents have finally been persuaded to leave the field and head for the changing room. Not a single smile at that. We're all soaked through - it's been pouring down at a temperature just above zero, abetted by a fierce side wind. It's my second game of the day, and I'm frozen and knackered and still have a mile to walk to the tram stop. "Well done on getting through that," says one of the few spectators as I leave the field. When I reach my changing room, I say to the club official who's there to pay me, "The football culture in this city is completely fucked up."

"You can say that again," he responds. And I probably will.

Game 38: 6-6 (4 x yellow)

Game 39: 5-2 (no cards)
Game 40: 4-1 (1 x yellow)
Game 41: 3-3 (3 x yellow)

Click here to order Reffing Hell: Stuck In The Middle Of A Game Gone Wrong by Ian Plenderleith (Halcyon Publishing), published on August 8, 2022.