On November 16th, 2013, I stepped on the pitch as
a United States Soccer Federation Referee for the first time in over a decade.
The rules of soccer haven’t changed much in the past ten-plus years. Well,
there are a few changes since I last pulled on the referee uniform: goalies
could only take four steps to get rid of the ball, in-line with the second to
last defender was offside, and the three referee system was in its infancy in
the United States. I packed up my old referee bag for my first game. I found
the following items in the bag: a 2000 National High School Rules book, a 1999
United States Soccer Federation Law Book, a pair of 13 year old Nike 90 soccer
cleats, a single yellow card, and two whistles. I took out the old books and
whistles, put in the new books and whistles, and headed out of the house to the
field. I was ready to hit the pitch for the first time in apparently 14 years.
It was the first time I had ever seen artificial turf up
close and personal. Growing up, I always played and refereed on natural grass. I
remember the smell of freshly cut grass and the squishiness of the lime/chalk
used to mark the fields in my younger days. The turf had an interesting feel
beneath my feet. The little beads that help separate the “blades” of turf kind
of feel like large grains of sand under my cleats. They look an awful lot like
mouse droppings, and after I fell to the turf mid-game, they tasted a lot like
how I imagine mouse droppings would taste. Each step on the turf was like
walking and running on a wrestling mat with those beads of chewed up rubber and
recycled Easter basket grass glued to it. The smell of the artificial pitch
was, for lack of a better term, absent, and there was no majesty to the field I
stepped onto, no connection of earth and man, sport and beauty. Artificial turf
eats up skin and legs, and it kind of eats up some of the beauty of the
beautiful game.
I began to stretch out my muscles. I don’t know if you are
fans of the TV show The Big Bang Theory, but I kind of felt like Dr. Sheldon Cooper. In one episode, he and his neighbor
Penny are headed out for a run. Penny directs the stretching exercises and
bends over to put on her hands on the floor. Sheldon remains standing erect
with his arms sort of dangling in front of him. Penny tells him to reach down
as far as he can; Sheldon said that he was. I guess you have to picture Sheldon
as a tall, lanky nerd. But then again, if you haven’t seen the show, you’ve
been living under a rock and probably don’t have a computer or the interwebs so
you’re not reading this anyway. I managed to stretch my hamstrings, amazingly,
without ripping a hole in my shorts.
I started to stretch out groin muscles by putting the soles
of my feet together and drawing them into towards my hips. I then tried to push
my knees down to actually stretch the muscles, but I looked more like someone
who was just dumped by their first “true” love and was weeping and hugging
their knees. I got a little help by gravity and finally got some give in the
groin. I think my hips started creaking like an old rusty door in bad horror
movie.
Once the groin muscles were done groaning, I started to work
on my calves. They were so tight that when I pulled on my foot, I started to
moan like two baby cows pining for their mama’s attention. I stretch my lower
legs on a fairly regular basis; so it actually wasn’t too bad, but it wasn’t
exactly easy either. Friends never let friends forget leg day at the gym, but
fellow referees don’t remind each other to stretch out their arms. My biceps
were less than pleased with my lack of attention to them pre-game come the next
day. So pro-tip referees: stretch your arms, chest, back, and legs before and
after every game.
After the stretching is done, I like to do a couple of what
I call 6, 18, and 60 sprint and runs. I start at the half line and jog to the
goal line. I then turn and sprint to the 6, turn around and sprint back to the
goal line, sprint to the 18, sprint back to the goal line, then jog back to the
60. I do this just to tell my legs to get ready fellas; this is what you’re
going to be doing for the next few hours.
As a team of referees in neon yellow shirts, we took to the
center of the pitch. The captains were called, the coin was flipped, the
decision was made, the hands were shaken, and it was time to start the game.
Once the midfield meeting is over with the referees, I jog to the 10 yard arc
then sprint to the 22-yard arc of the penalty area. It’s the final warm up before
I take my position on the line. That run also serves the purpose of my final
inspection of the net on my side. I inspect the goal every half using the same
run up process. I walked over to the corner flag, looked back across the goal
line, and took up my position on the field. I did a real quick head count of
players on my half of the pitch: yep, 11 players. I unfurled my flag to
indicate I was ready. The center referee blew the whistle, and I was finally
officiating another soccer game.
The Referee Chronicles is a series following my adventures on the pitch as a United States Soccer Federation Referee in South Florida. Blogs will be posted every Monday (if real life lets me).
The Referee Chronicles is a series following my adventures on the pitch as a United States Soccer Federation Referee in South Florida. Blogs will be posted every Monday (if real life lets me).
