Playing with the neighbours - a yellow-card fiesta on derby night

Game 12, 2020-21

There are three kinds of neighbours: 1. the ones you get along with, maybe even become friends with 2. the ones you ignore, and who ignore you in return (maybe they're weird. Maybe you're the weirdo) 3. the ones you fall out with over some issue (loud music after 10pm, a barking dog, a shitting dog...) that seems trivial to outsiders, but which possesses and aggrieves you more than you'd be prepared to admit. Like families, neighbours are thrown together and there's only a certain number of them you're going to get along with.

The two teams from last night are neighbours. That doesn't mean their fields are close by - they actually share the same facilities. Their club houses lie 50 metres apart, separated by the changing rooms and the toilet block. It doesn't get more 'derby' than this. Do they get along? I check the records for the last time they met, late last year. There were 11 yellows and a red card. So, probably not much...

"Last time we played this team the ref fucked us over"

Game 3, 2016-17

First league game of the season, and it's a very local derby. The two small towns are separated by three kilometres of road, and several fields of corn. I set off in the naive belief that it will be a celebratory summer festival. After a lively game played in great spirit, the hearty locals will toast each other while quaffing copious beers and chewing on browned meat from an open grill. They won't care about the result. I picture myself standing among them, spinning great yarns from my refereeing travels, enjoying a couple of ales and some roasted pig before they bid me a cheery farewell.

"Sorry mate, got to go and
check the corner flags."

Well, that's how a whimsical film director might have scripted it. The reality is as grim as the away team's assistant coach who comes over to brief me while I'm warming up. "There's a fierce rivalry and a lot of bad blood between our two teams," he says gravely. "Last season we lost here 2-1 because the referee fucked us over." He proceeds to describe in great detail what happened, something to do with a red card and a free-kick. "Sounds like the ref had an off day," I reply cheerfully. "It can happen to all of us. Maybe it'll happen to me today." And with that I run off to check the corner flags...