Three poems about referees
I said before that I did a course in creative writing, one I didn't finish (like so many things in my life). One of the exercises was on prose poetry, and poetry in general. I wrote this based on my experiences of being a (field)hockey referee here in The Netherlands.
A bit of background: at club level here in The Netherlands, parents are expected to referee their kid's games, each team providing two referees (field hockey has two referees, fyi). Later on, when the players get older, and the results matter, the club provides the referees, but often they're young kids themselves and so are open to a lot of abuse from parents at the side lines. I've heard things being shouted at teenage referees by parents that would make you doubt the destiny of humanity.
I'm not sure why I wrote the first part in Scots vernacular (perhaps because I grew up in Scotland, and from years of standing on the terraces at Aberdeen, Elgin, Peterhead, Turriff, and other football grounds around the North East of Scotland, this is what I heard grown men shouting at referees) but I did, and I think it works.
Anyway, the following is, as they'd say on Netflix, based on real events.
Warning - there's some salty language. Like I said, you'd be amazed at what the parents of 13-year-old girls will shout at you when you're trying to do your best, refereeing their game.
(1) ref!
ref!
referee!
howzat no a foul ref?
howzit ya didnysee thatwan?
are ya blind referee?
blind azwell az stupit?
ya fat wanker
ref!
referee!
are you gonnae blow yer whistle?
are you gonnae open yer eyes?
are you gonnae gie uzah foul?
are you gonnae gie uzah brek?
are you gonnae get tae fuck?
ref!
referee!
there's two teams playing theday
nae jist yer ain
howzabout taking the blinkers aff?
howzabout seeing it fae baith sides?
whit lodge are u fae ref?
ref!
referee!
thatzit referee
finally the right decision
took you long enough
took you a while
well done ref, well done!
(2) last minute equalizer?
in a brilliant move that starts from deep in their half
the ball squirms lose after our attacking move breaks down
by-passing our entire midfield
it is quickly passed down the flanks
and straight to their pacy centre-forward
who, with a deft flick of the wrist
exploits the wide open space
at the heart of our defence
left by our failed attack
with our defence struggling to catch up
caught off guard by this blitzkrieg movement
there's little in the way of resistance
the defence seemingly capitulating
in the face of this tremendous onslaught
when a moment's hesitation
in the mind of the aggressors
brings respite to the valiant defenders
and allows extra troops
to be brought from the front
a desperate defence begins
the girls swarming around the ball
pushing, pulling, shoving, jostling
and against a green background
the ball is lost, all that's visible
are shuffling feet and flying sticks
but the barricade remains un-stormed
until ...
the dull thud of the ball hitting the backboard
triggers celebrations and the pack breaks
half the girls run up the field
cheering, whooping, hollering
waving sticks in the air
watched by the other half
the vanquished defenders
who are not quick to find fault
the tribunals and enquiries beginning
as the ball is kicked back up the field
afterwards in the club house
that goal is the subject of much discussion
between parents and players
the genesis of a legendary story
one told to generations of players in years to come
(ah, you should have been there)
the goal scorer will be remembered
her name mentioned in awe and reverence
and held up as a model
of sportsmanship
of determination
of the physical embodiment
of club spirit
of club motto and
of never giving up
even in the face of adversity
all these things and more
might well have been said
if, to loud shouts of
ref, you fucking arsehole
I hadn't disallowed the goal
for a foul in the circle
(3) three points for a win
driving home
i'm starting to think
that maybe that goal should have stood
it was hard to see in the stramash
and maybe I blew the whistle too early
and maybe I should have let play go on
but a decision’s a decision
and a man in my position
can't be seen to back down
even in the face of the tears
of the girl whose goal I disallowed
like the angry words of her father
who approached me after the game
to point out the error of my ways
her face will stay with me
but neither anger nor tears
will take the shine off the three points we earned
that i earned?
it was a tight game right enough
with us the winner by a single goal
that single goal
and to think it could all have been so different
same time next Saturday?
aye.