It’s what the game is missing
My mum says she can always tell when Im lying. She spoke these child-crumpling words as I tried to blame the cat for knocking over a priceless vase from the Ming dynasty, or possibly BHS (so hard to tell the difference now a days). My reaction? Of course I did the honourable thing and went red and blamed the rabbit (Ive acquired one of those now). This was only last week.
The thing is I pride myself on being a pretty honest sort. Sure enough I lied when congratulating an AFC Wimbledon supporter on yet another victory. I lied when telling the chairman of another non league club that my expectation was nothing more or nothing less than staying up, and I lied when I uttered the words well were going to lose now arent we half expecting us to win, but knowing if I actually put my confidence out there wed only go and lose.
There are some things were always told its ok to bend the truth about, but my mum is ultimately right. She and all the other childbearers out there always know when their offspring are lying. But rather than treat this as a misapprehension of my yoof Ive discovered the “Mother” of all lie detectors could be the answer to our footballing prayers.
Sat at a non league game this week, a couple of incidents, not only got the fans baying for the referees blood, but one lad demanding the chairmans second cousin twice removed hand over his home movie as evidence to the fourth official.
Now, apart from the fact the match didnt have a fourth official (just a guy who runs the line on Sunday league games and is called in should the referees assistant rupture a crucial ligament), what hope has a part-time referee got on a part-time pitch with part-time centre-forwards? The answer? Scrap the referee, and instead line the footballers up in front of their mums.
Can you imagine Dider Drogba going down in the penalty area only to be told hell get the decision if he can look his mum straight in the face? Or how many dodgy fouls would our top brass footballers contest if they knew theyd have to explain themselves to the woman on the touchline calling them in for milk and biscuits?
Yes, its the only thing for it, and it’s what football and society lacks at the moment; a good old clout round the ear and “off-to-bed-without-supper, my lad”. I for one am getting straight on the phone to Lord Triesmann, with a new dossier for “Respect”. Tell ‘em to scrub those knees up Lord T, wash behind the ears and youve got yourself a brand new woman in black – albeit Mums the word.
Caroline Barker presents The BBC Non League Football Show
Every Monday from 9pm via www.bbc.co.uk/nonleague
Real Football, real fans.
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