Games 24-26, 2022-23
In the centre of the city there are 15 minutes to go in this toxic, fractious, foul-flooded U19 game. Yet again, there's a player on the ground clutching some part of his leg, and an exasperated opponent with hands held up, claiming innocence. As I check on the player's welfare, there's another collective cry from behind me, even though the ball's out of play. What now? I turn around to see red flames and a cloud of smoke wafting across the artificial surface. One of the away contingent has thrown a flare on to the field. Every weekend, we mine a new depth of shithousery.
A home team official runs on to pick it up and extinguish it. He's the same official I asked at the start of the match to provide two field marshals in yellow vests, as required by the competition rules. They never materialised. I wouldn't normally have asked, but the away team has a certain reputation, and it's not a fantastically good one. Their following - and in case you're wondering, it's definitely not common for U19 away teams to bring fans along - has been loud throughout. Shite rap music ('Turn it off!' My order); standing on the wrong side of the perimeter fence ('Get behind the barrier!' - me again, always the asshole spoiling everyone's fun); the occasional smell of weed (not going to get involved in that discussion); and exaggerated reactions to every tackle and refereeing decision (they're just being 'fans', I suppose - nothing I can do about that). When I yellow-card the home team's right back directly in front of them, there's a huge cheer in my name: "Yes, referee! Go, referee!"