Did I make the right call? Yes. No. Maybe

Games 42-43, 2022-23

On Wednesday morning I get off a long-distance overnight flight, go home for a nap, then head out to the countryside to referee a level 8 men's game, all in the name of conquering jet-lag in a single day. I've been switched off refereeing for the best part of three weeks, so I figure that dropping myself in at the deep end without a life-jacket will be the best way to re-acclimatise to the norms of European amateur football.

A chill wind beneath a deceptively bright evening sun host an encounter between a team struggling against relegation, and the unbeaten league leaders, fought out on a bumpy grass field that I measure, by foot, as a few metres longer than the regulation 110. Should I cite the rule book and order the home team to shorten the pitch by a few yards before kick-off? I'm sure that would go down well with the 150 or so spectators who have showed up. Much better to pretend that I never measured it in the first place.

There's no time to ease myself back into reffing, as the two teams get stuck right in - to each other. There are almost no chances, but numerous fouls. The last time I reffed here it was 0-0, and I wonder if I'm ever going to see a goal at this ground. Then in first-half injury time the home goalkeeper calls for and comes for a cross from a free-kick, but an away forward is there first with his head. The ball loops into the unguarded net, and the league leaders take an undeserved lead into the dressing room.

By this point, we've had just two cautions, an extremely lenient sanctions catalogue on my part. As well as all the free-kicks, I've also played advantage several times and ignored all complaints until I finally show a yellow for dissent just before the goal. It's intense and exhausting for everyone, and I'm half-hoping the away team extend its lead to take the punch out of the game. Instead, the hosts equalise just before the hour.

The away team is running a live ticker of the game online. After announcing the conceded goal, the ticker states "CLEARLY OFFSIDE". Of course.

The game remains a foul-fest, and the yellow cards accumulate like bird shit on a clamped car. The staples: a yellow each for the two opposing players who square up and grab and growl like rival rogue raccoons flaunting themselves before a hot sow. The home team official who, when kindly asked to calm down, yells at me, "Then make the right calls!" Here's a right call - a yellow card for being a twat. As ever, the constant shouting and drama both on and off the field lays waste to the myth that males constitute the sole rational gender.

The league leaders regain the lead on 85 minutes after another crass defensive error. The home team throws everything into attack, and I chug backwards and forwards as their opponents counter but fail to close the game. In the fifth minute of injury time, the home team's number 21 heads just wide from a free-kick, but he also connects with the head of the away team's captain. There's a loud appeal for a penalty. The away team player is on the ground and there's blood everywhere. After five minutes of treatment, he's carried off, an ambulance is called, and then I blow for full-time as soon as the goal-kick's taken.

Even as he's lying on the ground, receiving treatment and crying in pain, a couple of home players are still badgering me about the imaginary penalty. They're shouted down by the away players pointing at their team-mate, and eventually humanity prevails. I see it as an unfortunate clash of heads. Though maybe I'm wrong. And maybe that home goal was offside. And maybe it doesn't matter, because all that's really important here is that the defender receives treatment and make a full recovery.

Aside from all the dissent, fouls and histrionics, it's been a cracking game to ref, and I feel like I did okay overall - got the main calls right, and kept the game under control while running 5.7 miles on that massive pitch. I've borrowed a car to get to this one (it was impossible to make it home this late by bike and/or public transport), and so on the way back I listen to Bayern Munich against Manchester City. There's controversy over two handball decisions in the penalty area. The second time, VAR's involved.

Did Europe's best referees make the right calls? Yes. No. Maybe.

Game 42: 1-2 (11 x yellow)
Game 43: 2-5 (no cards)

You can hear me talking about refereeing and my new book 'Reffing Hell: Stuck in the Middle of a Game Gone Wrong'  here. It documents six years of whistling torment, tears and occasional ecstasy. Please buy a copy direct from Halcyon if you would like to support this blog and independent publishing. Thank you!