"We shoulda had a penalty!" Or, maybe not

Game 38, 2022-23

The home side is 2-0 up and dominating this level 8 men's relegation fight when, a few minutes before half-time, the away team launches a long ball forward. Their striker is running on to the ball as it bounces into the home team's penalty area, but a defender is running beside him. The two go shoulder-to-shoulder as they challenge for the ball. The forward goes down, and the defender clears his lines.

"Penalty!" chorus the away team, and their bench, and their supporters too. I wave play on and shut out the noise around me. Both of these teams are big on the drama, throwing themselves to ground with cries for attention like lachrymose weans aching for motherly love. There's already been a Major Incident when a (possibly) accidental hand to an opponent's face was treated like an attempted murder by the away team, even as the perpetrator apologised at length. The victim kept his face covered for the longest time until it was clear that there was going to be no red card, just a caution. When he took his hands away from his face to expose the brutality of the apparent attack, he was unscarred, unscathed, and very much alive and able to continue the game.

Back to that non-penalty. At half-time I have to pass the small gaggle of away supporters. "Shoulda been a penalty!" says someone in very loud and pointed tones as I make my way to the dressing-room, acting the deaf man (not hard for me, given my hearing impairment).

After an eight-month break, back to foul play and hot tempers

Game 23, 2020-21

First game for eight months, a boys U19 friendly. The pandemic's second wave is over, while the third one (driven by the Delta variant) is not forecast to hit Germany for another two months. It's been humid and in the mid-30s all week, the worst kind of weather for outdoor sport. The back-end of June seems an odd time to be re-starting play. But these are odd times. It's still the 20-21 season, but really we're preparing for 21-22. In the meantime, I've been 'training' by watching the referees in the European Championships, who - aside from being too lenient on dissent - have been doing an excellent job.

The home team wants to play three halves (2 x 45 minutes, plus an extra 30 minutes) because they have so many players. It's okay with me, but their opponents, with a squad of 16, say they'll decide after the 90 minutes are up. That makes sense, given the weather. Kick-off is delayed because the German FA's software won't accommodate more than 11 subs. When that's finally sorted out, I start the game and soon we're back to normal - two yellow cards in the first seven minutes. The first is for a tactical foul, the second is when the away team's goalkeeper up-ends a home forward who's about to score. At half-time, the home team's assistant coach wants to know why it wasn't red. "He made an attempt to play the ball," I say. He doesn't think much of that explanation. Some rule changes can take years to seep through into the consciousness of players and coaches...

A new season starts with silence in the dugouts

Games 1-2, 2019-20

Another year, another season - Game One of the 2019-20 season happens to coincide with my 54th. birthday, doubly accentuating the sense of embarking upon yet another cycle that may well turn out to be the same as the last one, and the one before that. But wait, I hear you say. That can't be true. Fifa has introduced several new Laws! Ah, so the game of football matures a little every year. Fat chance of that happening with me, Mrs RT might observe.

"You need to calm down!" Will new laws
 mean less hassle from the bench?

From a disciplinary point of view, there has been one particular change that should make a huge difference to referees at the dog-scrap amateur level. Now we can show yellow and red cards to team officials, and no longer have to follow the laborious process of a verbal warning, followed by a second and final verbal warning, concluded with a straight-arm dismissal and a further verbal justification. Why was this system so deficient? Because it not only required a lot of effort to explain three times to coaches that they are "behaving in an irresponsible fashion", but also allowed them room to disclaim and involve the referee in an always unhelpful discussion. Plus, in amateur football showing a red card is much more effective and straightforward than pointing to a non-existent stand.

Even better, the head coach is deemed responsible for the behaviour of everyone on the bench. So if you can't identify which one of half a dozen substitutes or team officials screamed at you, you just caution the coach, who carries the can of conduct for those in their charge. That's a significant and beneficial change to those of us alone on a field with 22 young male players and a dozen more potentially temperamental time-bombs planted along the touchline.

What you get if you google "small
birthday gift". Awwww.

It's only fair to warn them of the new laws, though. In Game One, I make the mistake of not bothering...

Stormy skies, stormy games

Games 29-30, 2018-19

There's a momentary tentacle of hot lightning followed a few seconds later by a loud groan of thunder. It's as though the very heavens are exhorting me to call an end to this shockingly poor boys U17 game. We're only 22 minutes in and I've already shown three yellow cards, all for nasty fouls. I blow my whistle to interrupt play, secretly hoping that the skies will roar, burst and electrify, and then we can all go home.

Nature's way of telling us to
shift our arses indoors

"It's not even raining," moan some of the players. I tell them that if a fork of lightning hits the field, they'll know about it. Neither they nor their coaches care, and they all stay out on the pitch while I retreat to my dressing room. After a few minutes I check the radar on my cell phone, and as the storm appears to be moving slowly off to the west, I risk resuming play. For the rest of the game it hovers close by, rumbling and threatening like the home team's coach, who's already been warned for encroaching on to the field of play to confront an opposing player about a challenge. Very responsible, that. Thank you for your help and co-operation, fellow adult.

At half-time, the teams stay out on the field. I seriously consider walking back to the dressing room, getting changed and cycling away from it all. Right in to the storm, if necessary. I've lost all desire to whistle another dirty challenge. Barely any of these players seem willing or capable of playing football. Why are they even here? Why am I even here on a Sunday evening when I could be...

"Meet my imaginary linesmen"

Games 12-13, 2017-18

"We were very impressed with your pre-match speech," says the steward. "We've never heard anything like that before." Look, I don't want to show off here, but it's extremely rare as a referee in this country to have 'impressed' someone. At all. So forgive me for cherishing the moment and going into some more detail.

Fictional linesmen - marginally
better than none at all.

I've tried lots of different pre-match speeches down the years. In the US there was a particularly difficult boys' "elite" league where all the players had supposedly signed a Code of Conduct. During the games, though, there was little sign that they'd taken it on board - among refs it was known as the Whiney Suburban Brats' League. I ended up taking a printout of the Code to games, holding it up to the players, and telling them I was sure that over the coming 90 minutes they would all be taking very seriously the document that they'd read, signed and promised to honour. It was surprisingly effective.

In my current country, I've tried being nice and I've tried to be stern...