I’ve offered to referee a children’s football match… and wish I hadn’t

The ref, so the saying goes, is a w****r. And when the ref doesn’t really know the rules, hasn’t got a whistle, and has only worn his boots twice before, that would seem to be a reasonable conclusion to draw. The ref is also, for one week only, me.

I’ve avoided it for as long as I could. When my son joined the local football club in September, it was clear that parental volunteers were vital to its running. Each of the eight teams in the under-nines age group required a manager and an assistant manager, and referees would be needed for every home game, along with “match day representatives”. I dodged every bullet.

In part, my reluctance to put my hand up was the result of already having commitments every other Sunday morning. Additionally, I was anxious about getting embroiled in the club when I wasn’t sure my son was going to stay the course. And, frankly, I worried that I didn’t know enough about football to be much help.

As the season progressed, I found myself enjoying the action more than I expected. On the occasions I’ve been able to watch my child and his teammates, I have cheered them on with real feeling, excited for them when they’ve won, disappointed by the losses. My son still takes it more seriously than I think he should, but he has had fun and has improved from month to month.

Ahead of home fixtures, I’ve felt moderately guilty when the WhatsApp message comes around, asking for someone to ref the next match. The usual suspects step in, a few with joy, others with obvious hesitancy. And no wonder that there is unwillingness in some quarters. Even at this low-key level, I’ve seen aggressive coaches (the opposition’s, obviously), mouthy parents (ditto) and even the odd bit of unpleasantness on the pitch.

Abuse of referees is a major problem across the board. And while the Football Association is certainly trying to tackle the issue, it’s less clear that it’s having much success. A notable rise in disciplinary cases in Somerset may have caught headlines last autumn, but nowhere seems to be immune.

And yet, despite my best efforts, I’m now in the firing line, after silence from the WhatsApp group this week when the inevitable question was asked. Without the excuse of unavailability, I finally agreed to be the man in black and the real fretting has begun.

Barracking from the sidelines is only one aspect of my angst. And if I’m completely honest, I felt more confident about volunteering for this game because the oppo is a nice village side, and I reckon the parents won’t sledge as much as some do.

My main concern, however, is whether I’ll remember which rules the players follow. There’s no offside, for instance, but I’m pretty sure they do play the back pass rule. And for goal kicks, I gather that the opposition has to be in their own half. Of course, it’s never occurred to me that I might one day need a whistle, but apparently the manager can lend me one. When do I use it, though? And how lenient should I be on foul throws – or fouls come to that? Can I call on VAR?

A few weeks ago, the father of a boy in our team found himself in the invidious position of having to give the opposition a penalty for handball in the last minute of the game. It was a tight call, but a correct one – though not everyone agreed, especially our boys, who grumbled loudly about the “trash” ruling.

My son is already carping about how I mustn’t make any bad decisions. I’ve told him to zip it or I’ll book him. Never mind that they don’t do yellow and red cards at this age – I’ll make my own. That said, if my performance is as bad as I worry it might be, the best option may just be to send myself off and give myself a permanent ban.