The Referee

This is the first extract from our new book, The Referee, which will be released in March 2022.

On a normal match day, he’d get to the ground about 45 minutes before kick-off, check out the facilities, have a look at the pitch, meet the 2 respective team managers and captains, have a briefing with the other 2 match officials, or linesmen as they used to be called, and then go and warm up and stretch. He always thought the last part of his preparation was the most important. There was nothing more silly looking that an injured referee, especially one who pulled a hamstring or calf muscle. That just meant he hadn’t warmed up and stretched properly.

This day he arrived 2 and a half hours early, not because his preparation was necessarily going to be any different, but simply he’d been warned that the crowd might be as big as 600-700, and he wanted to guarantee himself a space in the car park. Also, the road to the ground at Norton and Stockton Ancients was notoriously narrow, and when you got to the ground the private road to the car park was only wide enough for one vehicle, so if anyone was coming the other way it could sometimes be a difficult game of chess.

Anyway, he’d got a prime spot so he could relax a little. Getting there early had paid off. He took the thermos out of his sports bag and poured himself a milky white coffee, and then unwrapped the silver foil, and had his first bite of his ham, tomato and coleslaw sandwich. 2 apples, a banana and a piece of chocolate cake later, lunch was finished, and he decided to close his eyes for a few minutes and actually fell asleep.

He was abruptly awoken by a tapping on the driver’s seat window. He wound down the window.

‘Afternoon, ref. Speak to you a bit later. Hope you’re not going to be falling asleep on the pitch today, mate. You’re going to have to be right on it for this game, a lot riding on this today.’

‘Now, Micky. You don’t have to tell me, I know. Just getting a quick 15 and I’ll be with you in not too long. Can you let Johnny know that we’ll meet in the ref’s room at 2.15. Cheers, and may the best team win.’

‘Oh yeah, see you in a bit.’

He genuinely didn’t know whether he loved or hated games like this. On the one hand, he loved the responsibility of big matches but, on the other, he knew that every decision was going to be questioned, probably even the throw-ins, and at some point he was going to have players right in his face. The worst thing about these high profile non-league matches though was the abuse you got off the fans, especially the ones who were more interested in the sport of referee baiting rather than the football itself.

It was 2pm now and he got out of the car. The car park was full. He walked towards the changing rooms passing the billboard announcing today’s game. ‘Billingham Synthonia versus Billingham Town, FA Cup 4^th Qualifying Round, Saturday 16^th December 2021. Kick Off 3pm.’ He was momentarily overcome by nerves. ‘Right, same routine, just another game. Come on, let’s do this,’ he said to himself as he greeted the doorman that housed the changing rooms and the bar.

‘Afternoon, ref. Don’t envy you today. Can see this getting very nasty.’

It had been very nasty indeed, but 3 hours later it was all over. Northern League Division 2 Billingham Synthonia had scored in the second minute and, in what can only be described as 103 minutes of bombardment, there had been 15 minutes of additional time played, they had managed to hold on without conceding, and were through to the first round proper of the FA Cup. He’d sent off Town’s keeper for punching a Synners fans behind the goal, made 13 bookings, 4 for wasting time in the last 5 minutes of the game, and lost count of the number of times he’d been called a fucking twat, prick and cunt by both fans and players, mainly fans. ‘All for £63 plus petrol, not a bad afternoon’s work.’

By 5.45 he was showered and changed. A brick had been put through his windscreen. ‘Thank fuck I took out that referees’ insurance.

There was a note on what was left of the shattered glass. ‘Got your number off Johnny. Be in touch. We appreciate what you did today.’