Showing posts with label grassroots. Show all posts
Showing posts with label grassroots. Show all posts

Monday, 30 January 2012

Weathering the footy storms...

Don't get me wrong, I like Winter. There's loads of time off work, office parties, makeshift Nordic bars popping up in pedestrianised parts of town, etc.

But there's one thing missing...
...and that's a good old game of honest-to-goodness, 11-a-side, grass-roots, amateur football.

It's boring not playing a game of football. And when I say boring, I mean boring in the sense of every bugger driving to the ground knowing full well that the game isn't going to be played. Just because we've got to see the ref try (and fail) to push the key to his Honda Civic into the frozen turf. When the key doesn't penetrate the pitch, he holds it aloft, like he's discovered alchemy and wants the world to see, and decrees that the meeting of these two sides simply cannot place under his watch.

Half the players have left already anyway, but still it rests on him. I mean he could call them back if he wanted to. Although the feeling of being dismissed like a cash machine beggar would sting him more than being hit by a ball in this temperature.

So far our team, Mancunian Wave FC, has had every game in 2012 cancelled due to the weather (except for a 6-2 defeat last Sunday but we don't talk about that). Plus if you believe the weatherman, we're in for a cold snap akin to what those daddy penguins suffer every year when sitting on their wife's egg for 3 months, as Attenborough would testify.

Chances are, then, more games will be cancelled. And as more games get cancelled, there's less faith amongst the players that the next game will be on. That's when you get the texts on Sunday morning, about the niggling injury that's still niggling after last week's training, the aggravated muscle tear that's raised its head again, the ruptured anterior cruciate ligament sustained whilst plunging a cafeteria.

And you know what, it's fair enough. When it's 2 degrees outside and you wake up feeling stiff (insert innuendo here) who wants to trudge down to the pitches to watch a ref stab the pitch for 10 minutes?

With us, we've kept the momentum going with our usual mid-week training sessions. And, oddly, they've been better during the time we've had no matches - I guess because those who come down are desperate to play.

Training doesn't get you 3 points though. Well, neither do many of our league games either, cynics might say. But it's only when it all warms up for a spell that we'll found out for sure whether we can transfer top-notch training to the proper games - and I can't wait,

Winter: go do one!

Thursday, 8 December 2011

Is the ref really a wanker?


You're lying if you say you've never called him a wanker. And if you think saying 'good shout' the one time he's whistled for offside in your favour, when you're right-back's standing on the goal line, that doesn't make you a level-headed purist.

Most of you reading this have (I hope!) suffered an amateur dicking at some point. And if you're in your first season, like we are, how can you blame the players? (“We've only been a team 6 months; we're too new to be blamed!”)

So it *has* to be the ref, right?

I've only managed a dozen league games so far, but I've already identified the main categories of referee – and just how much they're to blame for a shit result…

Used to manage at semi-professional level: so you're in the 4th division, but for some reason you've got a guy who once refereed a 1st round FA qualifier. He stole the kit from that encounter, and makes sure it's vacuum packed between each Sunday game. A little pompous and has only disdain for the proletariat players he's overseeing.
Blame him for losing? No, he once sent off a Congleton Town FC player.

Too young to be there: his first season, he's got the bored bystander girlfriend watching from beyond the corner flag, tries to might light of the fact he’s bricking it, “only my 2nd game lads”, and the unconvincing fluff he’s grown on his top lip, in preparation for his debut season, means you can’t really take him seriously.
Blame him for not getting the right result? Nah, a knock to his confidence at this early stage might rob us of a half-decent ref for the future.

On the 'top table': this guy sits with the league management, on the top table at those monthly management meetings. Maybe he’s the league secretary, possibly the ref representative for the league. Of an evening the club crest badge sits proudly on his tie. Come the weekend, he dons the black strip and runs pigeon-chested amongst you. He loves how he’s the only ref who doesn’t really get any shit, but ignores the fact it’s because on the top table.
His fault you’ve dropped points? No, the league actually needs old-school multi-tasking like this.

Rickets-riddled oddity: where do you start with this guy? You think it's the cold making him stammer but instead it's the drug-dependency. Unable to stand up straight, legs like the outline of a cello, you feel cheated when offside's given 50 yards from his (probably impaired) line of sight.
Blame him for losing? No, he's got enough on his plate.

Nervous wreck:
Why oh why is he refereeing? He does know that amateur football involves 22 knackered blokes doesn’t he? And that at least half are going to have a bad day. Jumps at his own whistle, flip-flops on decisions, and finally when there’s nowhere left to retreat, and the only defence left is attack, he beefs up his retaliation with a couple of belting swear words: “If I say it’s a penalty, it’s a wankshitting penalty. You bells!”
Bollock him for an unhappy result? It wouldn’t be fair, unless you want some comedic vulgarity.

Dead man walking
Ruddy-faced, obese and confined to the centre circle. His match fee is required purely to pay for lunch afterwards. It’s not like he’s got a missus to keep him in bed on a Sunday either, he makes John ‘Portsmouth Football Club’ Westwood look like one of the male dancers from Strictly. Weirdly though, he seems to get on with the players better than other refs; probably because he’s still pissed on Scotch.
Is he dead to the team because you lost? Nope, he’s actually an alright bloke.

So, although there have been times where I’ve genuinely blamed a ref after the final whistle has gone, soon after I’ve realised that it can’t just be because he’s a wanker. Plus I know I’ve never blamed a ref for winning us a match!