Controversy found me when I least expected it. Popped out onto the playing fields opposite the house to watch part of a match only to discover an old mate refereeing without a linesman, so i took the flag. Halfway through the half, a striker was caught as he tried to dribble around the goalkeeper, stumbled and went down. I immediately flagged and the ref blew at the same time. I committed a basic error of not looking at the ref and putting the flag on my chest, advising rather than flagging like a fool. He was going to give the penalty anyway so it didn't matter too much.
Back indoors, just cooling down and about to tuck into lunch when the manager of the local under-18s team knocked on my door. His ref hadn't turned up. Would I help out? Dragged the wet kit out of the washing machine and limped down for my third match of the weekend.
This was livelier stuff as 17-year-olds are hormonal disasters waiting to happen at the best of times, let alone on the football pitch.
All attempts at conversation were met with a hostile grunt (doesn't worry me too much as I hear such grunts at home once every 10 minutes or so). Home team 2-1 down with 15 minutes to go and I give the home team a penalty. Defender and striker clash in the air, attacker flicks the ball backwards and the defender clears him out after the ball has gone, sending him flying.
Strikes me it's a foul and it's in the box, so it's a penalty. 2-2. Home team delirious, away team calling me every name under the sun. Heigh-Ho!
1 comment:
I think you made the right choice. But why are you called Chapter One?
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