A Full Moon and the Perfect Friendly

Game 10, 2018-19

"We have some guest players, but they don't have player passes," the two coaches tell me half an hour before kick-off. "As it's a friendly, is it okay if they play?" The clubs played against each other last summer, and they all get along. They promise me that there will be no problems.

Last night's full moon calms the players down

And what does the obstinate referee say to that? There's a part of me, as always, that just wants to so say, "Give them jerseys, I don't care." There's another part of me imagining one of the guest players starting a ruckus - with a team-mate, an opponent, or with me. There's violence and blood, and he runs from the field never to be seen again. Who was he? No one really knows, or no one's willing to say. And my referee overlords want to know, "Why on earth did you let someone play without a pass? Now we have an assault case on our hands and possibly a civil law suit."

So, I won't let them play. It's a decision that I come to mildly regret, because these two teams really are fine with each other. It's the most peaceful adult game I've refereed in my entire life. There's one minor moan about a free-kick near the start, but my stern rejoinder is the only time I need to reproach anyone for the remainder of the game. 

Even offsides remain undisputed, players pick each other up off the floor after fouls (less than a dozen all evening), and one player - the one who briefly moaned - confesses that he indeed touched the ball last, and so the goal kick I've just given should in fact be a corner. With his team 6-0 down. At the final whistle there are handshakes all round. I thank the coaches for the impeccably fair game and make a note in the game report too. I've only ever done this twice before.

Kropotkin - sage
advisor to referees

True, there are no points or cups at stake, but that doesn't necessarily mean a game will be peaceful. Perhaps it was the imposing full moon rising above the city's main river that calmed everyone down, or the impressive sunset behind the high-rise skyline to the west. Could be that everyone's too cold to speak (it's minus 3). Or maybe, just maybe, it really is possible for 22 adult males to contest a game of football without backchat, whining, threats, drama, screams and all that tedious, macho squaring up to each other.

This is a revelation and nothing short of a miracle. Who knew the human race was capable of such a thing? Next thing we know, there'll be happy and sane solutions to Brexit, Palestine, Iran, Taiwan and Korea. Just align the moon, the river and the descending sun. Or, as Kropotkin might have advised in the face of such new-age nonsense, revert to our natural state and co-operate. It's how we get by and how we get things done.

Final score: 8-1 (no cards)

Click here to order Reffing Hell: Stuck In The Middle Of A Game Gone Wrong by Ian Plenderleith (Halcyon Publishing), published on August 8, 2022. !