A Day In The Shoes Of A Soccer Referee

Okay, so I used to play soccer. Yep! Just playing for fun on the untarred roads of Sakubva Mutare and dusty grounds in Honde Valley. It was one of those. In places bereft of entertainment, soccer was an easy route. Oh yes, we had plenty of water bodies too... So yeah, after playing the aptly constructed plastic-rugs ball, we would take a dive into the fast flowing rivers. The ball itself would get us in trouble mainly because it was made of packaging materials meant for something else. Storing grain. Keeping seeds. Carrying vegetables from the garden etc. Furthermore, on the scale of tradeoffs, playing the ball meant that something was going to be sacrificed. For instance, fetching water from the well or herding the goats or even hiking for firewood. But we would find a way of striking a balance somehow. A balance which was never balanced. We were young with not so much sense for time management.

After successfully smuggling a few plastics out of the house, my brother Charles would exercise his expertise. He would mould and tie them into a fine soccer ball that we would hit and kick all day long. Hitting it on the wall. Sometimes we would take it to the 'ground' where we would play 1-aside, 2-aside, 5-aside - whatever number - soccer. Sometimes there was an odd number of players making it 'difficult' to make two teams. But this was the easiest of all our problems. We would simply ask that 'extra' guy to play for both teams. Yes, he would swap sides at 'halftime'. Usually, this position was reserved for the worst player. We would refer to him as 'Jekakwose' - a 

double-edged sword. Maintaining neutrality as a Jekakwose was really difficult. The guy, who was awful in one team, will change completely in the second half - creating and scoring goals sometimes. That drastic change in form was influenced mainly by family ties and friendships.

Today I am not writing about that, neither am I writing about the yesteryear soccer memories. I will do that some other time. Instead, today I am writing about yesterday. Literally. Bro J asked me to accompany him to a soccer match - social soccer. I agreed instantly. I was not expecting to play though. And yes, I didn't play. Injuries scared me... But there was something else awaiting me. As soon as we arrived, bro J was handed the world-famous jersey number 10 and quickly drafted into the team. And I was handed the whistle. "You are the referee!". I hesitated and tried to protest but nobody listened. He simply said, "It's social soccer... Don't worry", with that he walked away. "How long is the match going to be?" I asked him. "Normal time, 90 minutes bro", he responded without paying much attention to my reluctance and shrugging shoulders. I got lost somehow trying to remember the rules and everything else about soccer. I count myself a soccer fan. I watch soccer, I follow soccer. And I even played soccer. But this was a different territory that I had never navigated before. Handling a match for 90 minutes... Huh!

From the onset, I knew I had to rise above the two teams, I had to discard allegiance to any of them - regardless of bro J being in the other team. My decisions had to be impartial and transparent. My conduct had to be unambiguous and credible - and never lose integrity, consistency, and confidence. Of course, I badly needed that physical fitness too so I could run around the pitch for at least one and a half hours. My judgment had to be consistent and perfect. So the moment I was given the whistle, I knew what was expected of me. It was more than just whistling. More than just blowing it. But knowing what is expected of you is one thing... It is doing it that requires more effort.

Holding the whistle, I confidently walked to the centre of the park and summoned the captains. No need for a toss, they agreed on who was going to start the match. We might have flouted some rules there... Then the match started! Refereeing is not easy - worse when you have no assistants nor goal-line technology. Talk of the later, even the lines were nonexistent. I had to use my own discretion in determining whether the ball had gone out or not. This then means I had to be closer to the ball all the time. But now with those long searching balls from one end to another, I was in trouble. A few minutes later, the home team was down by a goal to nil. Bro J was on that team. At halftime, they were now down by four goals to one. Handling the match at that point was now hard. The losing team didn't want to concede more. In fact, they were plotting a comeback - a dramatic one, if I may say. The winning team wanted to put the match beyond reach. As the referee, I had to stay above all that. Yes, there were some protests here and there. A goal or two being disputed for offsides. The penalty I awarded to the visiting team - for a handball by the defender - being contested. They said it was a foul on the defender. Some challenged whilst others begged. I just smiled and continued officiating.

When I blew the final whistle, the home team was down by seven goals to three. A massacre I think. But lessons had to be learnt;

1. You think it's easy before doing it. Being a soccer follower, I am sometimes guilty of blaming referees. He should have... He must... He can't see that...? Oh my goodness, that was a clear penalty, offside, foul etc... All that is easy when watching from a distance. Once on the field, everything changes.

2. Nobody plays to lose. No! Although the home team was down by four goals to one at halftime, they weren't giving up at all. They continued pressing. They continued pushing in search of goals. At the break, I overheard their conversation - don't blame me for eavesdropping, we had no dressing rooms. The underlying message was, 'we need ONLY three goals'. I was like wow! But the reasoning was simple, they scored four in 45 minutes so we can score three in the second half. Simple! Yes, they couldn't manage that but the spirit was there. Play to Win!

3. Refereeing is not just blowing the whistle. I will always remember that. Henceforth, I will give match officials and umpires all the respect they deserve.

4. Being equal doesn't mean you are the same. Both teams had 11 players on the pitch. But the match didn't end in a draw.

5. Because you might not be aware of your next assignment and when it is going to be, be prepared for anything.

6. Sometimes it is not about material benefits but PRIDE. I watched as the two teams battled it out for nothing but pride. Nobody was prepared to lose.

7. But in case you lose, then never lose your dignity. Carry yourself up and prepare to fight again. I heard the losing team saying, 'we want to play you again'.

In the end, it was a good game. I enjoyed it. And endured the 90 minutes