The loneliness of the grass-roots referee

“You don’t know what you’re doing! You don’t know what you’re doing!” The chant rings out across the terraces. I look over to my brother who is standing next to me. “Who would be a ref, eh Kyle?” he says to me, smiling.

Every weekend thousands of people turn up to play competitive football. They all rely on referees. But, sometimes, you wouldn’t know it from the way those referees are treated. Abuse towards grassroots referees is at its all-time highest, according to the charity Ref Support. They found that 94.7% of match officials had been physically or verbally abused during a match at some point in their career. 60% of referees say they experience some form of abuse at least every two games.

I’ve been a referee myself for more than four years now, so I know all about abuse towards match officials. It’s a role I thoroughly enjoy, and I have met some fantastic people. But as I’ve climbed the refereeing ladder to progress to a Level 5 Senior County Referee, I’ve accumulated my share of horror stories. I remember one blustery autumn morning, and a game I’d volunteered to cover at short notice. Two players disagreed with some of my decisions that morning, and they chose to respond with threats and grotesque, sexualised intimidation. For weeks afterwards, I wasn’t sleeping properly. My confidence was shattered. I was hardly eating. It was just a game of football.

In the summer of 2020, a referee in London was left with concussion and cuts above his eye after a player he had sent off lashed out with his fists. The assailant got a ten-year ban from the local football association, but only a caution from police—a decision that drew criticism from Ref Support. “We believe nothing will change until a match official is murdered,” said the charity’s chief executive, Martin Cassidy. Things only got worse after a season lost to COVID lockdowns. Players seemed more inclined than ever to take out their frustration on officials.

Heroes of the game, who operate at football’s highest level, can sometimes contribute to the culture of abuse. If Harry Kane can swear at the ref, why shouldn’t anyone? Last October, Merseyside youth league postponed a round of fixtures over increasing levels of aggression towards match officials. Then just the next day, far from setting an example, Jurgen Klopp— Liverpool’s manager—was fined for his own abusive and insulting behaviour.

As a result, grassroots football now faces a severe shortage of properly trained match officials. The FA did not do enough to maintain existing referees during the pandemic lockdown, and they also failed to reach out to potential new volunteers. We’re still playing catch-up two years later, but that means fast-tracking referees, and sending them onto the pitch without adequate training. That, in turn, is only going to increase the tension with players.

“It’s a lonely world for a referee,” agrees Wolverhampton Referees’ Association chair Phil Reade. “It is you against twenty-two others. But without a referee, there is no game and players, management and fans alike would do good to recognise this fact.” I’m lucky to have my father looking out for me at almost every game I officiate. He was a referee himself, back in the good old days. Like me, though, he can see that things are getting harder.

We referee because we love football, and we know that there’s a lot of passion involved. But there is a national problem regarding abuse towards our referees, and passion is no excuse for that. More needs to be done to protect referees, especially at grassroots level, because if nothing is done, more and more referees will simply walk away from our beloved game.