I went to a soccer game at the weekend. George Orwell would have loved the dystopian atmosphere.
It had to be played indoors, in the event that it might rain, get windy or the electronic video wasn’t suited to the outdoors.
The audience was made up of a few students but mainly relatives of the players who were there to rah rah their school. Most of them were in a blur as they hadn’t a clue about the game that they were watching and what was happening.
This suited the officials as although they had a vague impression of what was going on they made sure that they were the entertainment. The spectators hadn’t the knowledge to question the ability or parentage of the officials and as usual under a dystopian system, the coaches, players and the few that did understand the game were not allowed to question or comment on the officials’ decisions.
There was, as true to the “big brother is watching” syndrome, mass surveillance, keen eyed watchers, who if a spectator uttered a critical or derogatory comment, towards an official, then he or she was immediately confronted by an overweight non athlete who asked the victim not to speak.
I did say “ask” as he appeared to be polite, but it was a pointed politeness. However polite he was, he made it clear in true Orwellian fashion that further comments, these violations of freedom of expression would result in your disappearance from the facility.
One has to understand that “amateur” soccer, referees have now taking over from the players as the main attraction.
They are dressed in vivid colours so you can’t miss them, to reinforce their authority. Before the game starts, they walk on to the pitch, across the centre line in synchronised step with each other. Then they do a warmup for about twenty seconds. This consists of a ten-yard jog and ten yards of side stepping. All perfectly synchronised.
With the warm up complete, they walk across the pitch to the side where the players are. The two line-people each run to an end of the pitch to a goal net and inspect the nets. Rather they waggle them a bit, again in perfect synchronisation. The synchronization must take hours of practice at referee’s school.
Then comes the piece de resistance, in their vivid coloured shirts and socks they lead out the two teams, they the thought officials are the focal point.
The warmup must have tired them out as they were finding it difficult to keep up with play. The linesperson stands at a point level with the most rear defender so that she can judge offside but forgets that offside is judged at the moment the ball is kicked not when she manages to glimpse that the forward has run through the defensive line to chase or catch the ball. They have never played at a level to really understand the game.
The thought officials also get paid which implies a higher level of professionalism and should face higher expectations and scrutiny regarding their performance.
So why are many of the officials that officiate at lower levels of soccer so poor and nothing gets done about it. The answer we are always given is: there is a dearth of officials, its an easy way to make money so you have to take what you get.
Just like living in Oceania, the pitch is a stage, the players are but puppets, the spectators there to make up the numbers with the thought officials having the ultimate power.
However, one cannot comment on the performance, if you do the red card will be brandished and you will disappear from the facility.
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