I did my son's football game

There is a simple rule for every sports officer: is impartial. However, if you act in which your child is involved, the pressure to be biased is intense.

It may not be surprising that most parents prefer to look from the sidelines. When the managers of my son's soccer team under the age of 10 bring out their weekly WhatsApp plea for a referee, the only thing that has to appear in response to tumbleweed emojis is.

Since my son started last season, I have reluctantly took on five or six times. I initially hesitated because I was not sure about the rules and had heard grim stories about abusive opposition trainers and parents. A BBC overview of amateur football referees in 2023 showed that almost all 927 surveyed had experienced verbal malice. Incredible, almost a third had been at the receiving end of physical abuse. It was only this weekend that FIFA's referee, Pierluigi Collina, suggested that it was more difficult than ever to be a referee. These are the hatred that aims against civil servants.

Sure enough, a few weeks last season I saw horrified when an opposition trainer lost the action, which he saw as incorrect decisions by a father in our ranks as incorrect decisions. He spent a large part of the game to fill the poor man, and then stormed to him to tell him that he was a shame whose performance was the worst he had ever seen.

Nevertheless, I was relieved when I finally put the courage to try myself that a rearling was minimal. In fact, I was so focused on the game that I didn't even hear anything that could be said of the field. Before my second game I bought my own pipe as a sign of trust.

Which pressure is mainly on the pitch. As fair and slightly socially impaired guys that I can imagine, the worst thing is that everyone would think small boys-Mich partisans. Not everyone feels the same way: I have seen a few breathtaking one -sided referees in the past 18 months. But my instinct is to give the Oppo the advantage of doubt so that I did not think I play favorites.

On the other hand, there is to win my son's desperate wish, which can of course also manifest itself in complete despair. Before the games for which I take responsibility, he will watch me dark. During the games he will leaf through and sometimes even throw his hands up when he thinks I was wrong. In view of the fact that he believes that every decision I make is wrong, he spends a lot of time to drive with a kind of eternal twitching corners. Of course I hate seeing his frustration.

Nevertheless, I do my best to let the game flow freely, rarely go up in the air for fouls and try to stay close to action when the ball starts for a throw -in. I call more often than anything else “play on” and try to sound significantly, while I can keep difficult decisions on a minimum and not forget how long the game is going on.

A few games before I gave the side of my son a penalty after an opposition winner was treated in the box. It seemed obviously a two-handed, diving rescue from someone who was not the goalkeeper. But the poor boy was in tears and claimed not to have touched it. I was worried that I had made a mistake and that nine -year -olds were poured as a fraudster by grumbling when they went home.

Last weekend, when I had put on boots and pipe, I supervised a sun -defensive match in which my son and his teammates were tightly beaten by an excellent visit page. It seemed a fair result, but my son was outraged.

The referee was “garbage,” he said, my “mistakes” led to at least five goals. I missed an obvious punishment and failed to award obvious fouls. In short, I was clearly biased – in the wrong direction.

We don't send children at this age. But if I could, I would like to give myself a red card and leave the reeffing to someone who can deal with the abuse.