Another ref's struggle against the wind and the rage of 22 men

Game 41, 2022-23

I have a half-hour walk back to the train station after Sunday's game. It's finally stopped raining, but it's still blowing a shitter. I pass a grass football field that had been empty and quiet on my walk in a few hours earlier, but which is now hosting a bellicose men's game. The first thing I see is is the referee showing a red card to the home team's number 4. Mayhem immediately ensues.

Needless to say, I stop to watch the drama. The referee is surrounded by the entire home team and their coaches, presumably pleading that he has made a dreadful error. The away team gets involved too, and there's a whole load of shouting and shoving. Then there's the usual slow infusion of reason and calm. It just takes a few minutes. The referee takes the number 4 to one side, and they have a long talk. The player stays on the field. The game resumes, and after clocking the dreadful quality, I continue my journey home.

Of course, the referee caught in the middle of this turbulent stramash has my sympathies. At the same time, I'm reassured - as always when I witness such scenes - that it's not just me. That I am not the sole and personal cause of all the hot and bothered emotions at the games I officiate. That there really is a general malaise infecting our rotten sporting culture all the way down to the bottom of the game.

Book review and author interview: Ashley Hickson-Lovence

Last week I had the pleasure of talking to the excellent up-and-coming novelist Ashley Hickson-Lovence (pic. below), now published as a podcast at Halcyon Publishing's website. You can listen to us here talking about our dual  roles as writers and referees.

His superb novel Your Show, narrated through the eyes of the English Premier League's first (and so far only) black referee, Uriah Rennie, has just come out in paperback. Last year, I reviewed the book for Soccer America and interviewed Ashley by e-mail. The results are re-printed below (with the kind permission of Soccer America).

Your Show by Ashley Hickson-Lovence (Faber & Faber)

How many autobiographies written by professional referees have you read? How many can you even name? I've read books by the English refs Mark Halsey and Paul Durkin, but they were self-serving and threw sparse light on the game of soccer or the art of officiating. There was a decent effort by German ref Patrick Ittrich a couple of years ago, but I honestly can't recall much about it. When it comes to producing readable literature, referees tend to fall into the same trap as players - settling scores no one else cares about, and offering points of view that come nowhere close to touching on the revolutionary overhaul that the game or its laws really require.

The young British novelist Ashley Hickson-Lovence (himself a former referee) has taken a different approach to writing about the life of Uriah 'Uri' Rennie, the first and so far only black referee in the Premier League. With Rennie's co-operation (see Q&A below), he's narrated the referee's life from the 'you' perspective. He picks up on all the pressures and tension of top-flight officiating, and nails the contradictions that come with being a lone neutral in between two sets of motivated professional athletes poised to exploit the slightest perception of weakness. The book's title comes from a stadium announcer at Preston North End who, at the start of the second half of a game Rennie was refereeing, told the crowd with more than a hint of sarcasm, "Welcome back to the Uriah Rennie show!"

Have I had a bad game? Or was I just made to feel that way?

Game 40, 2022-23

It's one of those days for the home team. With five minutes to go, they're six goals in arrears. Following a scramble from a corner kick, they have a looping shot headed off the line by an away team defender. They appeal loudly for the goal, but without technology or an assistant on the touchline, there is absolutely no way to tell if the ball was fully over the line or not. I wave play on. The away team launch a smart counter-attack and, 20 seconds later, it's 0-7 instead of 1-6.

It's safe to say that the home team is no fan of me as a referee. In the first half, they complain bitterly that the visitors' second goal should be cancelled out due to an offside in the build-up. "Two meters!" they claim, like this exact measurement backs up their case. It's always that massive two meters, to emphasis my total wrongness. They would never say it was offside "by at least a centimetre". Absolute conviction must batter all doubt when addressing the clueless ref.

The home team's coach is also having trouble with my calls. When his defender lunges into a straight-legged tackle right in front of the home bench, I whistle for a free-kick, despite the defender having won the ball while nailing the man. The coach is predictably incensed and raves away until I appeal for him to calm down. "CALM? WHAT'S THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?" he barks. That means you get to see this plastic yellow rectangle held up before your eyes. It's clinically proven to induce calm.

When referees don't help their own cause

Game 39, 2022-23

Before we get to Game 39, let's wind back a day to the girls' U14 team that I coach, playing in a 7-a-side league. It's almost always very sporting and low stress, which is what I love about it. The referee is about my age, very chatty and friendly. The girls take an instant liking to his approach. He notes their first names down on his game card, so that he can address any issues with them on an informal basis. They've taken off all their jewelry - ear-rings, necklaces and bracelets - and placed them in the valuables bag with their smartphones. One of the girls on the other team has her ear-rings taped over, which is specifically mentioned in the rules as not being permitted, but no one here needs an arsehole to point this out, and frankly I don't give a shit.

Dangerous jewelry...

At the end of the half-time interval we are all chatting cosily with the ref (despite us being 5-0 down) when he notices that one of my players hasn't removed a wafer-thin string bracelet that had been concealed by her long-sleeved under-armour - she'd simply overlooked it. No problem, she removes it straightaway, even though it's impossible that such an item would have caused an injury. And then, our super-friendly ref does something that we take a second to register. He takes out his yellow card and brandishes it with a stiffened arm right in front of the 14-year-old sinner. Ha ha, very funny! This ref's a hoot! Except he's one hundred per cent serious, and - exhibiting a strange transformation in his hitherto genial personality - tells us in no uncertain terms why he "has to" give this card, because it says so in the rules, and then he gets all shirty when I try to gently disagree. Eventually, I turn my back on him to stop myself from raising my voice into pompous 'I'm a referee too!' territory.