Wankers with a whistle
You know, in books and in movies, there’s this somewhat Freudian tradition of giving almost every villain an unhappy youth, or one specific, traumatic incident that explains their present criminal behaviour. So, Batman’s Joker fell in a large barrel of acid – and even that most perfect of monsters, Hannibal Lecter, belatedly got a back story as a traumatised kid who’d seen his little sister being eaten by a bunch of looters/deserters in World War ll.
In real life, there seldom is this elegant and entertaining tit for tat. Most of the people who had unhappy childhoods, were bullied at school and at home, couldn’t get a girl or couldn’t get rid of their zits – most of these didn’t turn into glamorous arch-villains. They just became City Councillors, wheel clampers and, of course, referees.
The referee, and especially the football (or soccer) referee is a perfect example of the above-mentioned Arch-Villain Principle (the A-VP). Friendless, girlfriendless – and altogether hopeless – they have, most literally, turned into the card-carrying pricks we can admire each week during our football matches.
Neurotic? Check
Anal-retentive? Check
Napoleon/Mussolini complex? Check
I mean, just look at the next clip: How many times do you need people to retake a penalty before you have satisfied your inner tyrant…?
Of course, even worse than the megalomanic bean splicer is the megalomanic incompetent.
Most referees think that they are infallible – like a God Who walks the earth and terrifies all sinners with His whistle and smites them with the holy Yellow & Red Card.
Which is irritating enough as it is, even if so many of them wouldn’t have the maturity of a five-year-old, the intelligence of a waffle iron and the acuity of a blind drunk hedgehog.
As the following clip shows, in which the Almighty-In-Shorts finds nothing at all wrong with this goal:
Of course, it won’t do you a blind bit of good to complain to the ref, after the latter has blown his whistle (and his top.) For the referee is a jealous God, Who does not allow any other authority in His realm. Like old and demented barnyard dogs, referees guard their territory with a terrifying and insane vehemence.
As the following clip shows:
The depressing truth is, though, that however much these referees act like primadonnas, they remain these sad, sad figures.
Their grown-up frames, their little whistle and their funny, little cards, all their tantrums and mad dog antics cannot hide the little boy who was never picked by any team.
Of course, that’s no reason to pity these creatures. The school ground may be a ruthless jungle but its laws are, on the whole, pretty straightforward, and almost fair.
So, there was nearly always a solid reason why these future referees were not exactly part of the in-group. As the following, short clip shows.
I mean, would you want a guy like this in your team…?
Not exactly the moves of a young Mohammed Ali – and yet, types like this rule the world of football. They make the decisions that influence the multi-million dollar careers of players, the sacking of managers, the promotion and relegation of teams…
Those who sing like toads and move like arthritic goats are masters of and very much present on the stage on which the ballerinas and the opera singers try to give us their best performances.
Talking of ballerinas, though: Even worse than the clumsy oaf who should not be allowed near any dance floor, is the narcissistic madman who thinks he’s got all the moves.
Self-confidence is one thing. Thinking that your feeble stiffy compares favourably to the Eiffel tower is something else entirely, as the following clip shows:
Which would be a fitting but rather disappointing conclusion to leave you with, so I won’t. Instead I’ll give you the following bonus clip, in which two referees are treated with the respect they, no doubt, deserve.
Not a football clip, alas, but many a football player and supporter would have wished it were:
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