Have I had a bad game? Or was I just made to feel that way?

Game 40, 2022-23

It's one of those days for the home team. With five minutes to go, they're six goals in arrears. Following a scramble from a corner kick, they have a looping shot headed off the line by an away team defender. They appeal loudly for the goal, but without technology or an assistant on the touchline, there is absolutely no way to tell if the ball was fully over the line or not. I wave play on. The away team launch a smart counter-attack and, 20 seconds later, it's 0-7 instead of 1-6.

It's safe to say that the home team is no fan of me as a referee. In the first half, they complain bitterly that the visitors' second goal should be cancelled out due to an offside in the build-up. "Two meters!" they claim, like this exact measurement backs up their case. It's always that massive two meters, to emphasis my total wrongness. They would never say it was offside "by at least a centimetre". Absolute conviction must batter all doubt when addressing the clueless ref.

The home team's coach is also having trouble with my calls. When his defender lunges into a straight-legged tackle right in front of the home bench, I whistle for a free-kick, despite the defender having won the ball while nailing the man. The coach is predictably incensed and raves away until I appeal for him to calm down. "CALM? WHAT'S THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?" he barks. That means you get to see this plastic yellow rectangle held up before your eyes. It's clinically proven to induce calm.

Games go well when coaches know discipline

Games 5-6, 2022-23

It's still hot, so we're having a drinks break, 23 minutes in. The score's 0-0 in the first Level 9 league game of the season. I walk over to a bucket of water by the touchline to cool myself off. Three elderly gentlemen are sitting on a bench behind the barrier.

"Just thought you should know," one of them says. "But our number 7 wasn't offside."

"Thanks for the tip."

"You're welcome."

(Holding up the whistle) "Do you fancy a go with this? Then I can come and sit in the shade for the rest of the afternoon?"

They know the rules (photo: imb)

We will never know for sure whether the number 7 was offside or not, but the player's opinion of my decision will be always marked in the record books by a yellow card for dissent. It's an early one (15 minutes on the clock), and no one on his team yells at me after that. The guests have their own moaner, the number 14 midfielder, and he gets an entry in my note-book just before half-time. If all the first half energy from players sounding off at their team-mates was converted into football skill, we'd be witnessing a classic. As it is, we go into the break goalless, having heard and seen nothing but vented fury and wayward balls.

Drinks break, second half. The home team is by now 2-0 up. I walk over to the same bucket and ask the three wise men if they've seen any more refereeing errors. 

The Art of Instant Conflict Management - one ref's approach

Game 30, 2021-22

An elderly spectator comes up to me at half-time as I'm on my way to the dressing room. That's not always a good thing, and after today's testy first 45 minutes I'm expecting a strong opinion - there have been two penalties for handball offences, four yellow cards, and a time penalty for a player on the home team, during which the away team took advantage of its extra man to equalise. Score: 2-2. But the gentleman only has encouraging words: "When you took the two players off to one side there for a talk, that was great - well done."

He's referring to a typical scene that seems to play out now in every game, regardless of level or age group (with the exception of the U11/U12 games I recently reffed). Two players go for the ball, one of them commits a foul, the other has something to say about it, the fouler makes a comment back, and then they're both squaring up and pushing each other in the chest. WHO FACKIN' WANTS SOME???? And then comes the bandy-legged old ref with his whistle, ordering them both off to one side and on to the naughty step. I want them to feel like this is a visit to the headmaster's office. The good thing is that my speech is so well honed by now that I don't even need to think about it.

The first task, though, is to get one or both of them to shut up. Just like in the school yard, they want to let you know that it's the other guy's fault. "Ref, he said, he did blah blah blah." I interrupt this infantile babble with, "Quiet, I'm the only one talking here!" Then off I go: "Are you both off your heads?" (I like to act a little outraged, like this is the first - rather than the 500th. - time I've seen such a scene on a football field.) "You realise this is a football match, right? So make a decision, do you want to stay on here and play football, or do you want to act like idiots? If it's the latter, you can get on with your moronic macho posturing in the club-house for all I care. On here, we're playing football." By now, both players should be nodding. I stop talking, whip the yellow card out of my left pocket, and raise it twice as the concluding choreography to my short one-act play.

An Amateur Referee's Guide to Communication

Games 34-35, 2019-20

"Communication is the most important aspect of refereeing." It's an old guy, leaning on the surround barrier of the field where I've just reffed. We're watching the game following mine. I don't know if he's making a general comment, or if the comment's specifically aimed at me. Either way, I spent a lot of Sunday's game talking with players, right from the moment I arrived at the club house. Here are some of the different ways that an amateur referee verbally communicates with the two teams over the course of the three hours spanning our arrival to an occasionally embittered departure.

PRE-GAME

1. Introduce yourself. On arrival seek out both coaches, shake their hands and smile. Greet players just arriving or already warming up, strike up a conversation if the chance arises. No one wants an aloof authoritarian in charge of their game. As a player, I hated refs who thought they were too good for Sunday league. Let the teams know you'd very much like their team line-ups confirmed online 30 minutes before kick-off. If they're having problems, especially before evening kick-offs when many players are rushing to arrive from work, show that you're flexible, but start to look less flexible as kick-off approaches. 

2. Make known your expectations. Chat with the players about what you expect from today's game as they line up to run out on to the field. You are naturally anticipating a fair and sporting encounter...

Big decision time - does this game really need a red card?

Games 18-19, 2019-20

Small-town home field
(pic: RT)

The away team's number eight, a midfielder, goes in way too hard and late on an opponent, about 40 yards from the home team's goal. It's a foul, no one's going to dispute that. The 100 or so home fans dutifully roar in outrage at the challenge, while the fouled player go downs with a cry and clutches his thigh. Part of me thinks it should be a straight red. Another part of me instantly counters that a red card would be too harsh.

At moments like this, in the few short seconds I have to make the decision, I try to take into account the temperature of the game. The home team is second from the bottom, the away team is second from the top. The score is 1-1 and there are 15 minutes to play. It's been an intense, hard-fought game, with lots of shouting and what we are now obliged to call "emotion" (but which I'd more often than not classify as hot-headed stupidity). The underdogs have come back strongly in the second half after going in at the break 0-1 down...

The Bloke Who Stares and other small club archetypes

Game 26, 2018-19

It's half-time and the home team in this boys U19 game is 3-0 down. My changing room's across the corridor from theirs, but I can hear the coach through two brick walls. He's demanding to know what the fuck they are playing at, because it's certainly not football. He wants some extra effort, he wants them to show that they really want to be out there, otherwise what's the point of being here at all. COME ON NOW!

You could call this place the archetypal city club. I've been here plenty of times before, and to plenty of clubs just like it. It's tucked in to the allotments, a stone's throw from the Autobahn. You can see the towers and lights of the city centre to the east, and on a clear day you can see the hills of the wealthy satellite towns to the north. Both feel beyond reach of a club which, unless you were looking for it, you'd never know was here.

There are certain other staples. In the club house there's an elderly woman in charge of everything. She's civil but she's not over-friendly - after all, how many referees pass through here every week...

The referee's fear of the penalty

Game 10, 2016-17

Four minutes to go, the score's 2-3 in a furious and foul-ridden boys' under-17 game, and I blow for a penalty to the home team. It's an unnecessary foul from the defender, who stands his ground and then backs into a forward as he's jumping for the ball. The forward goes arse over tit and lands in a heap. I'm five yards away - a clear foul, a clear penalty.

Yet again, the ref uses his special powers to force
 a defender to commit a foul in the penalty area.

The away team sees it differently. Five players surround me and yell. Their bench is up on its feet, expressing solidarity through raised arms and rubicund outrage. It's been like this the whole second half, from both teams. Amazingly, I don't change my mind. I show a yellow to the loudest dissenter and they back off. The home team converts the penalty.

I'm not fond of penalties...