"Excuse me, but we would like to form a wall." Too late, mate

Games 11-12, 2024-25

Second half of a boys' U15 game. The goalkeeper of the away team comes out of his penalty area and carelessly picks up a through-ball with his hands. I blow for the free-kick, he puts the ball on the ground, and begins to run backwards. A forward on the home team looks at the ball, looks at me, and then says, "I can take the free-kick, right?" Of course, I reply. He runs up to the ball, chips it over the goalkeeper's head into the goal, and celebrates with his team-mates.

I turn towards the half way line for the re-start while all around me yell. The defenders on the away team are screaming that they didn't have the chance to set up a wall. Their coach is screaming about the same thing - at least, I imagine he is. I've been ignoring him all game because he's a choleric knave, and I continue to do so now. I'm not about to waste my breath explaining the laws of the game to a ranting idiot. If he doesn't know them, that's his lookout. The same goes for his dirty, fouling, rat-shit team - a sporting collective modelled after their moronic mentor.

"Let's get Physical!" Let's see how that works out

Season 2024-25, Games 1-10

A breath of Champions League

The season's a few weeks old and I've reffed ten games without feeling compelled to write a blog. It's not that games have been any less eventful, but last season I felt that the narrative was repeating itself like a digestive system fuelled up on broad beans and sauerkraut. Coaches continued to jump up and down while yelling at me and their players. Parents and other spectators continued to have no clue about the Laws of the Game. Players were, in certain cases, beyond incredulous at my execrable decisions. The Pope, meanwhile, declared that yes, he was absolutely still a Catholic.

This season the German FA has introduced the captain's rule at all levels of the game (only the captain may discuss 'controversial' decisions with the referee), as well as the 'Stop-Concept' - you can blow the whistle when things get heated and send both teams to their respective penalty areas to just hang and chill for a while. With this back-up, I decided to give reffing men's games another go. The general behaviour isn't that much better overall, but having those official tools at my disposal makes me feel more secure about dealing with conflict and damnation.

Here are this season's sporting low points so far.

Yet another series of Mad Men

Games 52-53, 2023-24

I'm reffing a boys' U13 promotion playoff game - intensive, hectic etc. The home team is leading 2-1 with three minutes to go. The losing team is pressing, but creating nothing, and every time they lose the ball the home team launches a counter-attack. On one such attack, the away team's number 5 deliberately holds the home team's very skilful number 17 and brings him down. He did the same thing five minutes earlier, a clear tactical foul which drew a (verbal) yellow card. For this second offence, I sanction him with the five-minute time penalty.

The foul happens right in front of the away team bench. There's a three-man coaching team, who've been randomly vocal throughout the game about the odd decision, but nothing out of the norm. So far, I've ignored them, but punished the team's deliberate physical play (shoving, holding, tripping, shirt-pulling) with a stream of free-kicks and a couple of cautions. This last entirely warranted punishment, though, is like holding a naked flame to a warehouse of paraffin-doused polyester.

All three of them instantly freak out. It was "just a foul", how can it possibly warrant a time-penalty? Also, I've been biased against their team "the whole game"! It seems that coaching your charges to deliberately foul is not expected to invite the referee's intervention. There must be some sort of rule I've never seen or heard of that you have to call fouls 50-50. Anything else is unfair. They are so abrasive that I show the head coach a yellow card, and take the game to its conclusion. While the three cranially-hindered hotheads now scream at every decision against them, the game meanders to its logical end - a victory for the superior and far more sporting home side.

Why are so many coaches stupid enough to shout at referees?

Games 45-51, 2023-24

I've been a referee for 15 years, a coach for almost 20. One thing I have never understood: why on earth, as a coach, would I scream at a referee?

In my role as a referee, this is what I see when a coach starts jumping up and down on the sideline, waving their arms and screaming about some decision or other: a dickhead, an arsehole, an idiot, a moron, a twat. Someone who knows fuck all about football. Someone who should absolutely not be in charge of a football team, especially a youth XI. Someone with a chronically warped perspective. Did I mention arsehole?

When a coach wants the world to know: I'm a wanker!

Games 41-44, 2023-24

On Friday night I cycled nine miles up and out of town to referee a boys' U17 game, keeping my eyes on the road, of course, but occasionally glancing upwards. There had been a warning on the news that a giant battery pack from outer space - galactic junk - was due to re-enter the earth's stratosphere round about now, and south Hessen was one of the places for its possible landing.

There was one place that I hoped it would land during the game - on the away team's bench, where there appears to be no ground control. I would have been happy to write the headline in my match report: Bawling Ass Crushed by Falling Trash.

The team is often a reflection of the coach. One of his players trips an opponent up just before half-time. Not in the course of play, I should add. The ball has just gone out for a throw-in, and without any apparent provocation, the away team's number 7 sticks out his leg as the home team's number 10 trots past him. About five yards from where I'm standing. The number 10 and I both look at each other, as if to say, "WTF?" There was no pretence, no cover-up. Just plain stupidity, for all to view.

Dark night. Shit ref. Laughable ref

Game 40, 2023-24

Sometimes, you miss a key decision, and you know it. The players know it, the coach knows it, the crowd thinks they know it too. How they react can have a knock-on effect on your confidence, and uncertainty creeps in. You start to second-guess what you just saw before your very eyes. Or thought you saw. Exasperation spreads among those around you, mutating to incredulity and then abuse.

Saturday evening, a U15 game, the hosts are the girls' team of the city's biggest club, against a local boys' club one year younger. The girls are expecting to win, they're far higher up the table, in second place. The first half is physical, but not unfair, and an even 0-0. The turning point is at 1-1, early in the second half. The girls take a corner kick, the boys' team heads it clear, and in the melee a girl goes to floor with a yell. But I haven't seen a foul, just a cluster, and I'm already following the ball upfield, where the boys score on the counter-attack to make it 2-1.

Bloody hell. Not one apology, but two

Games 34-39, 2023-24

A father comes up to me at the end of Game 38, a boys' U15 league match. He's laughing as he asks how many cards I showed. I'm not laughing as I tell him - seven cautions and a time-penalty. Another father shakes my hand, thanks me, and says he admires referees for turning out for games like this one. I nod in acknowledgment, but I'm in no mood for a chat. I retreat to my changing room and fill out the match stats. Then I add in the box under 'other observations':

"Seven yellows and a time-penalty in a U15 game - it's a crying shame that teams in this age group are already being coached to foul relentlessly and moan disrespectfully at the referee. An extremely unpleasant game."

Thankfully, by the time I come out of my changing room everyone's gone home except for the home coach, who's bringing in the corner flags. He smiles and shakes my hand, a different person to the one who - along with his assistant - was complaining on auto-drone throughout the second half. I'm still not smiling, the game has put me in a shit mood. I tell him that they both deserved yellow cards at least, and he nods ruefully. Instead, I'd just ignored them. Some days, you can't be arsed with the drama and just sink into a kind of melancholy daze, wishing the minutes away as every call you make is greeted with bleats and brays.