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| Yadder yadder. |
As well as refereeing most weekends, I coach two teams. The boys' U16 team that has the dubious privilege of my tactical knowledge receives a lecture before every game about respecting the opponent, respecting their fellow player and, above all, respecting the referee. "Please, don't even talk to him. Accept their decisions. Let our captain politely address any concerns."
Often I know the referees and we'll have a chat before kick-off. I tell them not to hold back on yellow cards for dissent from my players, because I'm trying to teach them basic sporting values. If the ref has a good game, I'll tell them so. If they don't, I shake their hand and thank them for turning out. Even those who seem to me like poor officials are rarely to blame for the result. In fact the worst ref we'd had all season was in charge for two of the games we've actually managed to win.
Then this past weekend, I faced a new trial as a coach. A severe test of everything that I preach on this blog about decency, self-control and fair play. Because the only thing I can say about the referee consists of the following four words: Oh. My. Fucking. God.
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| A dugout to turn to in those 'wtf' moments |
Last May I reffed a game where I had a chat with the away coach before the game. He told me, I wrote, "that if any of his players get carded for dissent, he slaps them with a fat fine. If he disagrees with any of my decisions, the away coach promises, then he won’t yell at me – he’ll merely turn his back on the game for a brief second to steady himself."
It's solid advice, and I used it a lot on the touchline on Saturday. I may have turned my back on the field around two dozen times. The referee saw multiple fouls for the tiniest of contacts, given against both teams. Yet three times he ignored players laid flat out and hurting on the turf after reckless/yellow card challenges. Each time he waved play on and made that 'ball' signal with his hands so popular among brutal defenders.
He also disallowed a legitimate goal for a handball that on one else saw. There's no video evidence allowed, but one of the watching dads had the clip on his cellphone. We watched the anulled goal again and again after the game. There was no handball.
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| A dugout for screaming in to during those 'seriously, what the effin' eff?' moments |
The referee sternly dressed me down three times, although he knows I'm a colleague. Once before the game because four of my players' passes were not signed (really, no one gives a shit - I've probably missed or ignored hundreds of unsigned passes). Then at half-time because I'd made a first-half substitution before he gave me the actual signal - he was looking straight at me and play was stopped for a free-kick, so I thought we were okay. A third time at the end of the game when, despite everything, I went to shake his hand, and he informed me that I'm the coach of an "asocial" team - in the final minute, two of my players had finally spoken up about his officiating skills and they were yellow-carded for dissent.
They shouldn't have spoken to him, of course. I can understand why they did, though. I didn't have the energy to bollock them after we lost to two very late goals in an open, attacking game where a draw would have been the just outcome (especially considering the disallowed goal). "The worst ref I've ever seen in my life," said one player, and the rest quickly agreed. I didn't mention that I'd had the same sentence directed at me a couple of times. They were all knackered and frustrated, and not in the mood for one of my lectures.
Did the ref just have a bad day, as has happened to me plenty of times before? I would venture that his inconsistent foul recognition showed he is, to put it kindly, a highly complex individual when it comes to interpreting the Laws of the Game. I'll be asking my assignors not to allocate him to another one of our games. Neither in this season, nor in any of the 100 seasons to come.
How did I react to his severe reproaches? The first time, with the player passes, I made a joke about slapping myself with a fat fine (he didn't laugh). The second time, I apologised - it seemed there had been a genuine misunderstanding about the timing of the substitution (what he didn't say: "That's fine, I appreciate the apology"). The third time, I waited until he'd finished and then turned and walked away. The foul words on my tongue were better left unsaid.
It's always instructive to experience officiating from another point of view. Furthermore, twisting around smartly to face the subs bench and silently mouthing your frustration to the gaping dugout is a great way to keep in shape. And, most important of all, to stay in control.
Final score: 5-3 (5 x yellow, including two for my own players, shame on us)
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.
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