Such is the importance of match officials, I now check who has been assigned to each Newcastle United domestic fixture. Not only the man in the middle but also the VAR in the Stockley Park bunker.
This is a fairly recent development in my 58 years as a supporter, one triggered by the availability of wall-to-wall Premier League coverage and, of course, the increasing reliance on science to make decisions. I hate the thought that matches are sometimes decided more by the subjective opinions of referees and assistants than by the actions of elite footballers.
By watching far too many matches, I know which of the “top” referees are likely to ignore foul tackles, refuse to wave justified yellow and red cards, allow players to steal 10 yards or more at every throw-in; and which ones are not. Which ones favour certain teams and which ones don’t. Hence my ref-check. Sad, isn’t it?
While my instinctive tendency is towards the luddite end of this ever-changing world, I can appreciate the benefits of multiple cameras, goal-line technology and the other aids intended to improve the performance of referees.
There is a fundamental problem, however. Those calling the shots, either on the pitch or as VARs, are as human as the next man. They are fallible, prone to mistakes, gullible. That is why blatant and not-so-blatant attempts to cheat are common among top-level players.
More than 300 years ago, a wordsmith wrote: “To err is human; to forgive, divine.” His name was Alexander Pope (1688-1744). He was a giant of early 18th century poetry, though not literally. Apparently, he was only 4ft 6in, about 50% shorter than Newcastle’s current No1, which suggests they are unlikely to be blood relatives.
Anyway, Pope’s famous proverb makes a lot of sense. An ability to accept mistakes and forgive those guilty of them is an admirable quality. It is also a way to retain one’s equilibrium.
Shakespeare, inevitably, had earlier spoken his mind on a similar subject, in The Merchant Of Venice: “The quality of mercy . . . is twice blessed. It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.”
Why would I disregard such wisdom? Well, on Monday I did, having been provoked beyond reason by one incident in particular at the Tottenham Hotspur Stadium (yes, they are still surviving without naming rights; as are the Toon, by the way).
I was in no mood to offer forgiveness or give mercy. I wanted to see the incompetent referee vilified and humiliated, banned and ostracised. By implication, my response to the appalling error by Jarred Gillett was inhuman. Guilty as charged, though I would argue not as guilty as the Aussie-born ref.
The incident that infuriated me involved Mathys Tel, Tottenham’s 21-year-old forward. Earlier in the match he had whipped a superb angled drive into the corner of the Leeds United net to open the scoring. He was presumably on a high, perhaps believing his goal had played a decisive role in Spurs avoiding relegation at the expense of West Ham United.
Whatever his mood, he decided to attempt a spectacular overhead clearance near the edge of his team’s penalty area. Eyes on the ball, he leapt like an acrobat and made powerful contact with . . . the face of Ethan Ampadu a split-second after the Leeds player had headed the ball.
An accident, a human error, a misjudgment: these things happen. It was reckless and it was a stonewall penalty. The referee had an unobstructed view. No other player was within five yards of the challenge.
Jarred Gillett did nothing. No whistle to award a spot-kick, no whistle to stop play for a potentially serious injury, even though Ampadu fell to the ground, clutching his head.
Perhaps the referee thought the Welsh defender was pretending. Perhaps Gillett neither saw the boot connect with the head nor heard the impact.
In an ideal world, Tel would have called for intervention. Football is a far from ideal world, though, so Spurs regained possession and surged upfield in search of a second goal. That’s elite sport for you.
My stopwatch wasn’t to hand but roughly 20 seconds or so later there was a voice in Gillett’s ear. Whether it was as loud as the sound of Tel’s boot in Ampadu’s ear is impossible to say.
Gillett finally blew his whistle and a lengthy VAR review led by Craig Pawson ended with the ref being asked to watch the footage on the pitchside monitor. One quick check would have told him what to do but no, the protocols had to be followed and the whole sorry episode was dragged out like a forensic examination.
Then came the inevitable announcement to the 60,000-odd spectators by Gillett, who I suspect was the only human in the stadium to be unaware until that point of what had happened.
“After review, the Tottenham number 11 commits a foul on the Leeds attacker. Final decision, penalty.”
Too bloody right, he did. Tel had kicked Ampadu with considerable force.
Justice was done when Dominic Calvert-Lewis scored the penalty but what was Gillett thinking? What would have happened if VAR hadn’t intervened? Remember, there has been a tendency this season, prompted by Howard Webb, the referees’ supremo, to go with the on-field call. Thank goodness Pawson did intervene.
When the referee makes a massive blunder, his bosses at PGMOL occasionally take action, removing him from the next set of fixtures. It’s no more than a slap on the wrist, a sop to mollify the wronged party, but it is something.
Not in this case. The referee for Sunday’s game at St James’ Park, when West Ham United know they will probably need a win to earn a realistic chance of Premier League survival, is Jarred Gillett.
The VAR is Craig Pawson.
I hope against hope that the man in the middle is up to the job. Whatever he does, I know one thing for sure: Gillett is NOT the best a man can get.