Villarreal Stung by Austrian Toolmaker and Soccer Moms Gone Wild

It was a big day in the world of football and the way things went for me in the evening, you’d think I was the guy who decided not to blow his whistle when Arsenal’s Brazilian holding midfielder Gilberto sliced down his Spanish opponent Jose Mari FROM BEHIND just inside the penalty box.

Did Austrian referee Konrad Plautz – who, by the way, was not one of ten UEFA referees chosen by FIFA to officiate at the World Cup – swallow his whistle? Well, as someone who roots for Arsenal and who also typically doesn’t like to come down too harshly on my more-esteemed colleagues, I’d have to say yes. But I’d be curious to know what you think.

Now maybe Mari’s reputation as one who embellishes contact from an opponent played a part here, not to mention the fact that Plautz probably didn’t want to give Villarreal a penalty kick in the last European match ever to be played at Highbury, but from less than ten yards away as he was at the time, I can only wonder what was running through his head as Gilberto clattered into Jose Mari from behind. Perhaps I too would have made the same decision, but I doubt it. Because even if Gilberto did get to the ball first, which is unlikely, there’s no question that it was still a dangerous foul in light of how the defender followed through by scissoring his opponent to the ground.

But then he (Plautz) had to compound the matter by encouraging the Spaniard to quickly rise to his feet even though he had obviously suffered a painful knock. Shameful. And how embarrassed he must’ve felt later in the match when Jose Mari was eventully substituted with more than half-an-hour remaining because he could no longer continue due to injury.

And unfortunately for upstart Villarreal, this was not the only crucial call that didn’t go their way. It seemed like from beginning to end that Arsenal was getting more favorable decisions. And remember, I’m saying this as someone who was rooting for the Gunners.

But despite a poor showing by the whole team of Austrian officials – who were also wrong on at least a half-dozen offside decisions – Villarreal are still well within striking distance in the return leg at El Madrigal next week, having only lost 1 – nil. And as we’ve seen before, you can never count this side out.

Now to my evening in the middle, which included three very different indoor matches, including the finale – a Moms league match. To begin with, I find the whole notion of a Moms league very strange. Why not just have an Over 30 league? Where, after all, are older childless women supposed to play if they’re not quick enough or skilled enough to play in an Open division? But that’s neither here nor there for the purposes of this discussion.

What is relevant are the expectations of certain participants, in particular, the team in white on this occasion.

Now, after returning from the bathroom at 8:00, I told the women that it was gametime (8pm kickoff…and we’re encouraged to keep things on schedule) and that they should get on the field. So a minute or two later as they were still gabbing away I blew my whistle to expedite matters. Soon thereafter, the blue team responded by fielding their team, but the white team ignored me still.

So I blew my whistle again and set the clock for twenty-six minutes (for the twenty-five minute half) and yelled to them across the field, informing them that the game would begin in one minute when the clock showed twenty-five minutes.

They barely made it for some reason, perhaps not thinking I was serious.

About a minute later, the blue team scored, sending the women in white into hysterics. ‘Why hadn’t I asked the goalie if she was ready?’, they screamed at me. I chose not to respond, wondering how they could be so inconsiderate as to think that the game (and everything that should follow it) should be delayed any longer so that they could continue their pre-game gab-fest. My only thought was, ‘how come she wasn’t ready to play five minutes after the scheduled kickoff?’

About ten minutes later, white was poised to score as the ball rolled along the goal-line, but a blue defender cleared the ball from danger. ‘How could you make that call from so far away?!’ an irate Mom screamed at me. All I could say was that it didn’t cross the line, which I was quite certain it did not.

As play continued, however, the same Mom muttered a few expletives under her breath, but definitely within earshot of anyone within ten yards, including me. So I blew my whistle to let her know that I could hear her and that it was very disrespectful to me to speak like this. “I was talking to myself!”, she shot back…to which I replied, “If you’re speaking to yourself than I shouldn’t be able to hear you.”

Shortly thereafter, blue kicked the ball about twenty yards upfield in the air. When one of the women in white chose to wrap her arms across her chest and play the ball with her hands rather than head or chest the ball legally, I whistled for a handball. They went ballistic, informing me that in their league they were allowed to protect themselves in such a way. I tried to explain that this true of a shot or a hard pass, but that when the ball is floating through space they should try to play the ball without using their hands. Still, I agreed that if these were the rules of their league then I would be happy to call it their way from now on.

The second half more-or-less proceeded without incident and the game ended in a 3-all draw as white scored with less then ten seconds remaining – all of their goals coming from horrible misplays by the hapless blue keeper.

When the game was over, a couple of blue moms thanked me, one of whom recognized me from the other facility I work at. She told me that their league does NOT have the ridiculous rule about using your arms to play the ball rather than chesting it, but that there was one referee who did tell them that it was o.k. in one particular game.

And then in chatting with blue post-game, they were emphatic (and I had no reason to doubt their honesty) that the ball never did cross the goal-line on that close call in the first half.

But that’s not where the controversy ends. As I made my way towards the office to sign out for the evening, the foul-mouthed mom in white ran over ahead of me to have the staff set me straight about a few things. First, she was pissed about the way I had started the game, to which Erin – the manager – replied, ‘was it game time?’ Yes, in fact, we were already four minutes late at that point, and the facility is quite clear about their desire to keep things on schedule.

Ok, so then Angry Mom said, “Would you please tell him that women are allowed to protect their chests with their arms when the ball is coming at them?!” To which Erin replied, “Well, was it a shot on goal or a direct free kick?” Here, I interjected by stating that ‘no, in fact it was merely a ball that had been cleared from one end to the other’, to which my nemesis-du jour admitted that she actually hadn’t even seen the play in question, but that it didn’t matter.

Now I was mad, incredulous that she had the audactiy to complain about something she hadn’t even seen, adding “See, I’m right, so you can to apologize to me now.” Naturally, Angry Mom stormed away in a huff.

Admittedly, it was a tad on the obnoxious side, but any of my brethren can empathize with how tiresome it gets being told how to do our jobs by people who don’t have the slightest idea what they’re talking about.

Still, I do love my work, despite having to ocasionally deal with foul-mouthed, ill-informed, inconsiderate people like Angry Mom. And I even enjoy these imbroglios to a certain extent. But without question I do prefer being in the middle of high-level matches (at any age level) where the players, coaches, and even the parents usually know a quality official when they see one in action. And more than that, they typically appreicate your service to the game and thank you for a job well done – which means more to a referee than you’ll ever know unless you’ve been there yourself.

Until next time…

peace,
ac