Playing along with Archie of the Arseholes

Game 19, 2018-19

Another Sunday, and another afternoon in the reserve leagues choking on dregs from the bottom of the sporting barrel. I look at the 'Fair Play' table. Out of 15 teams in the division, these two are 13th and 14th, with 15 red cards between them. When my phone goes two hours before kick-off, I'm hoping it's to tell me that the game's called off. Instead it's my niece asking me if we want to hang out and play board games. Sounds like fun. Sorry, I can't make it.

Saner games for Sunday afternoons.

I know the captain of the away team. He's a fellow ref and we get on, so I appeal to him to ask his team to keep it sane. I make the same appeal to both teams as we line up to enter the field. The same old speech about me only having two eyes and no assistants. About not screaming at me every time I whistle for offside. About how we should play in a fair and sporting fashion and actually try to enjoy the game. They all applaud. Sounds like fun. So happy I could make it.

My speech is quickly forgotten by the home team. It's the offside calls that get them going...

Anger, dissent and a mass brawl - another night out with the Reserves

Game 18, 2018-19

Nice smooth surface on a beautiful
spring night - we'll soon fuck that shit up.

Good news for pedlars of anger - supplies are still running high. There is absolutely no shortage.  In fact, anger levels seem to be going through the shattered glass skylight. As I wrote in my game report, "For the away team, I recommend an immediate and urgent course of fury control therapy." I'm absolutely sure they will take my advice.

A relegation battle in the League of ragged Reserves, football's abandoned grave-pit where you will find only the cluttered, dehydrated bones of the game's sporting values. Too old? Play in the Reserves. No discipline? We'll drop you down to the stiffs. No fucking use at all? We'll call you when we're short, on a Thursday night at the butt-end of another failed season... 

Like Groundhog Day without the punchlines

Game 17, 2018-19

It's been a year or two since I last encountered 'Danny', the city's loudest youth coach, and when I saw his name on the team-sheet of the away team for a U19 game last weekend I wasn't exactly leaping through the air and pumping my fists at the thought of an emotional reunion. Still, everyone has the opportunity to change. Although in the times we'd met since I was a witness three years ago to him receiving a fat fine and a heavy warning from the disciplinary panel for unacceptable behaviour on the touchline, he hadn't changed one bit. 

"Hey, Danny - great to see you again!"

Sure enough, Danny has coached a team in his model image. Right from the start they foul their opponents, and then complain loudly when I whistle. They are backed up by Danny on the touchline, who screams, "Referee!" every single time. It's an obvious ploy to intimidate both their opponents and the ref. By half-time they have three yellow cards - one for foul play and two for dissent. I've spoken to Danny twice and given him his first two warnings of the afternoon. Does he listen and shut up? Does he fuck. 

Young coaches setting a good example

Game 16, 2018-19

Sometimes you know it's going to be a quiet day simply from the coaches' pre-game attitudes. For this boys' U17 match-up, both teams are coached by personable young men who respond with a smile and conversation when I walk up and introduce myself. Much better than the greying, gruff old-timer who won't look you in the eye, and who honestly looks as though he'd rather not be there. These are two strong amateur clubs giving off an air of professionalism.

The only picture I could find of player passes.

Since the winter break, the control of player passes in youth games has been re-introduced. It was abolished about two years ago, and was obviously open to abuse. It probably still is in the men's leagues. I confronted one team at half-time after becoming suspicious that a player being passed off as 24 looked to be almost twice that age. "Give us five minutes," they said through a crack in the door of the changing room. When I knocked again they told me he'd had to leave suddenly due to a family emergency - via the back entrance. 

A referee sent to test my purported sporting values

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.

Sorry's not always the hardest word

Game 15, 2018-19

  

It's rarely a good thing when a player you sent off the field three minutes before the end of the match walks towards you at the final whistle. In this case, the number 8 of the home team. It's a U19 game, so it was a five-minute time penalty that had followed an earlier yellow card.

A different kind of card

What had happened? In the 83rd minute of a most unfriendly and foul-ridden 'friendly' game, he had come in late on an opponent and left him on the floor, with no apology. He moaned about the yellow card for the foul, and I asked him kindly to keep it shut. Four minutes later he shoved over a different opponent, and complained again when I blew the whistle. This time I invited him to take a break on the touchline. He walked off without further protest.

So what does he want with me at the final whistle?

What's the point of re-taking an illegal goal kick?

Game 14, 2018-19

There's one football Law that I dislike in particular. A given team is taking a goal kick, and the goalkeeper, say, plays it short to a defender on the edge of the area. There is no attacking player anywhere near the defender - that is, the opposing team are not part of the current craze for pressing, or counter-pressing, or whatever the 1001 Apostles of Klopp are calling it this week. 

The defender receives the ball just inside the penalty area, or on the line of the penalty area. The law says that you have to blow the whistle and make them take it again. The same if it's a free-kick taken from within the penalty area. So you're faced with the following choices:

1. You blow and insist on the re-take. Everyone sighs, some might utter an epithet. Bloody hell, ref, does it matter? Such a trivial stoppage for, really, nothing. The Germans have a great word for it - kleinlich, which covers petty, fussy, pedantic and nit-picking all in one. Sometimes Bundesliga refs will be marked down in kicker magazine for being kleinlich, and to me there's no greater criticism. I think I'd rather be called useless, inept, blind and corrupt.

The Mouthy Pensioner, 'Your Mother' insults, and "It's still 0-0!"

Game 13, 2018-19

There were some regular features in last night's game that anyone who plays or refs in local leagues will instantly recognise. Let's take it from the top:

A coach, yesterday.

* Pre-match - the coach who hasn't got his player passes ready. It's like listening to a scruffy schoolboy explain why he hasn't done his homework. "They're in my car," he says. Well, could he go and fetch them, please? "I'm parked way over on the other side of the ground! There are only ten minutes to kick-off - can't I give them to you at half-time?" No, I want them now, otherwise we don't start the game. "But I'm an old man!" Then send a young substitute with your car key and I'm sure we'll have them in no time. Eventually I get them, and they've not even been chewed by the dog.

* 'Your mother' insults. It's been a while since I've had one of these staples of the amateur game. The away team's number 8 is chasing down the home team's right-back, who successfully shepherds the ball out of play for a goal-kick. Out of nowhere, the number 8 aggressively squares up to him and I go over to separate the two. "He insulted my mother!" whines the number 8...

When there's violence behind your back

Games 11-12, 2018-19

There are 15 minutes to go in a dirty and unpleasant U19 game. I've already shown five yellow cards and delivered several short lectures. The home side's number 6 plays a pass forward, challenged from the front by the away side's left back, the number 4. The two collide, but there's no 'after-foul', so I quickly follow the path of the ball. It's been received and controlled by the home player's team-mate when I hear cries of outrage and look back to see the number 6 and 4 squaring up and pushing each other in the chest.

"Ref, ref, he said/did this or that!"

I don't know exactly what happened, because I barely saw it out of the corner of my eye. I'm told by several home players that the away defender, number 4, kicked out at the number 6. If that was the case, and if I'd seen it, then obviously it was a straight red card. Unfortunately, I didn't see it. After I've separated the two, and listened to them both complain loudly about the other, I can only give number 4 a yellow for unsporting behaviour (pushing his opponent in the chest). I explain to the number 6 that my eyes were already on the next passage of play, so I can not punish what I didn't see. Even if I can tell from the players' reactions what almost certainly did happen.

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."