Even on quiet days, negativity's the norm

Games 31-32, 2021-22

A few weeks back I wrote about a generally toxic boys' U19 game where the home team passed up the chance to be good sports by admitting that a goal scored by their opponents had actually gone in (but back out through a hole in the net). Later, one of their players received a straight red card for violent conduct. It was the team's last game. They withdrew from that league a week later and all their results were annulled.

It was no surprise. The trainers seemed indifferent to the team they were coaching, and that was reflected in the players' attitude. Numerous U19 teams drop out in the course of any given season because there's not much more to play for - no more promotions to a higher level, for example. Even the most deluded players have realised by now that they're not going to play at a professional or even semi-pro level, while the distractions of exams, relationships and the imminent prospect of possibly leaving home and starting a new life all mean that football is pushed down their priority list. Why bother showing up for another six months in a losing team with no sense of spirit or togetherness when you can quit now and enjoy a few extra free Saturdays...

Managing teen aggression, ignorant coaches, and morons behind the goal

Games 8-10, 2020-21

I've reffed two boys' U19 games over the past few days - one cup tie, and one league game - and have finally come to realise that these games will never be quiet. I took a friend to the first game and said to him, "The chances of there being no cards tonight are about one per cent." As a former player in the east German youth system, he was not at all fazed by the intensity of the game, and thought the seven yellow cards plus one five-minute time penalty and a red card were just about right.

Putting 22 adolescent boys on a limited rectangle of ground and letting them all compete at the same time for a single round leather ball is never going to lead to group yoga and 90 minutes of wellness therapy. As the sole controlling factor, the referee has to reckon in advance with high testosterone levels and inevitable frustration, aggression and foul play. The trick is always finding the balance between lenience and punishment, as well as hitting the right tone when it comes to keeping the players in check and focused on the game.

In these two games, I was gifted ideal situations in the first half that allowed me to assert my authority - both times, two opponents squared up to each other following a battle for the ball and exchanged words...

When a teenage player breaks down and cries

Game 25, 2018-19

"Thrice he assay'd, and thrice, in spite of scorn,

Tears, such as angels weep, burst forth."

(John Milton, Paradise Lost)

Paradise Lost - 4-1 to
Hell after extra time.

Just over 20 minutes gone in a boys U15 game, regional league. The dominant home team leads 2-0. From a direct free-kick just outside the penalty area, the diminutive but agile away goalkeeper makes a fantastic, flying one-handed save up in the top left-hand corner of his goal. Corner kick, and applause.

I stand on the end-line closest to the taker, as I always do for corner-kicks. The corner swerves in on goal and the keeper, unchallenged, can only punch it into his own net. 3-0. He's angry with himself now - the great one-handed save has been annulled, at least in his eyes. Then two minutes later he makes another save, attempting to turn a shot over the bar. Only, he doesn't get enough hand on it and it loops behind him into the net. He scrambles back to try and rescue the situation, but he's too late and ends up in a heap in the back of the goal. 4-0, and the game's effectively lost with just 26 minutes played.

I run back towards the halfway line, but when I turn around for the re-start I notice that the goalkeeper's still lying on the floor, curled up in a ball in the back of the net. I run back to check if he's injured, just as a team-mate is trying to help him to his feet, but he doesn't want any help. He is crying, and crying hard. He hadn't wanted anyone to see, but now that he's getting to his feet there's no mistaking his emotion. He screams in frustration, grabs at the net, and kicks the goalpost. Added to his two mistakes is now the supposed shame of being the boy that cried...

The problem with teenage boys...

Game 39, 2017-18

When I was a young father people used to look at my daughters and ask me, “Don’t you ever wish you’d had a boy?” I used to reply with a short and truthful “No,” while resisting the urge to tell them to shut the fuck up insulting my children by implying that they’re the wrong sex.

Pelé and Garrincha - you have to
 be about this good to skip training.

“Well, wait until they’re teenagers,” these fatbergs of wisdom would knowingly fart on. “Then you’ll wish you’d had boys.” It turned out they were wrong again. And having coached and refereed teenage players of both genders, and having once been a teenage boy myself, I can only feel grateful for having avoided living with these fluid-shipping, hormonal wrecking balls masquerading as the Lord of the Big Fucking Cock. 

On Friday I tell three players on my U15 team they can’t play at the weekend because they missed both training sessions last week, and didn't take the trouble to let me know why. One immediately texts and says he is sorry, but he’d been injured. The second eventually calls and sort of apologises. The third one writes in the team’s WhatsApp group that we will surely lose because now “shit players” are getting picked ahead of him, the standby Garrincha...