The past 10 days sure have been interesting.. Many people have praised my actions, many have simply not, but in general, I am pleased with what I have done, bar a couple of details.
I left you with the story that I had been banned from refereeing as a result of a ludicrous charge of 'not acting in the best interests of the game' from the FA, something that I did, and still do think, is an outrageous act of favouritism and ridiculousness. I won't go on to rant about how wrong I think it is. See the previous post for that bit!
I told you that I was considering further action, and further action is exactly what happened. I considered a lot of paths, including formal letters to the FA, a phone call to the FA to demand an explanation as to why this charge and punishment had been bought against me and I even considered at one stage forgoing the appeal fee and travel costs, and heading down to Wembley myself to vigorously defend what is a repugnant charge.
But no. I didn't go down any of these routes, but instead chose a rather controversial and potentially chaotic route to go down, recommended to me by a friend as soon as the charge came out. The press. Not just the local press, but the big boys. I thought about it for days. Do I really need this? Will it upset those closest to me? Will it be worth it? I answered all those questions in my own head, predicting the response of people, but instead answered the most important question that was nagging away in the bedlam that is my brain. Should I stand up for what I believe in? The overriding answer to that question was, yes. And the only way I feel I could really get through to the FA, really make them aware that I was deeply unhappy, was through the national press.
As I walked away from work on a warm Friday evening a week ago, I received a phone call from a Charlie Sale, a sports journalists from the Daily Mail. It was all a bit of a blur, but the fight against the FA charge had started, and if you start a job, you aim to finish it, no? I think I came across well, and Mr.Sale seemed to agree that the situation was a harsh one, (as anyone with any sense can tell), and we were away. It was published in the following days paper and I myself worked on spreading it. I have received a lot of support from a lot of people, and for that, I would like to thank them. A couple of people however, most notably the people who are lodged halfway up the arse of the County FA, went out of their way to try and unnerve me. Even with my tendency to question my own actions sometimes though, I fended them off, knowing they were simply talking crap. Knowing that my belief in this was so strong, that it didn't affect me one iota. In fact, I found it laughable.
On Monday of this week, I got a phone call from Adam Thompson of the Bedfordshire on Sunday, who had reported the original story of Peter Brown's racist actions. He was very interested in talking to me, and we arranged a meeting for the following morning. This is where we come to the first of my regrets, followed rather quickly by the second. Mother Mitten wasn't best pleased in my very public appearance in the Daily Mail. She is rather protective of me, with good reason I suppose given the last few years, and asked me to not go to any other papers. She claimed I was fighting a losing battle, and there was no point in fighting. I tentatively disagreed, but I do find it difficult to argue against either of my parents. I may believe strongly in this, but I have grown up with the attitude that my parents are always right, regardless. When I awoke uncharacteristically early on Tuesday morning, (while I was not due at work until 1.30pm), she asked where I was going. I lied. I claimed I was meeting an old school friend in town for an early lunch. As I reached town, I felt a pang of disappointment. I'm sure she would have respected my decision a little more if I had been honest about it, and despite my secret new year's resolution being to be more honest with them, about everything, I hadn't on this occasion.
However, I had agreed to meet Adam at the Beds on Sunday HQ, and meet Adam I would. We discussed in more detail about the events and the subsequent charge and even the original tweets that led to this debacle in the first place. Then came my 2nd regret. I agreed to a photo of me, quite literally, "showing a red card to racism".
At the time, it sounded like a good idea. It would show that racism had no place in our beautiful game and I thought it would compliment the article well. As I walked away though, knowing the photo would be used in tomorrow's edition, I regretted it immensely. There were 2 problems:
1) I had speculatively suggested to Adam that this photo would make the article look tacky. I specifically said the word "gimmicky", but Adam shrugged it off, and seeing as he is the professional, I agreed to go along with it. After I had had more time to think about it, I came to the conclusion that it WILL take the seriousness out of the message I am trying to spread. It will look "gimmicky" and it I don't think it will give the message that I am trying to portray. Aswell as this, a photo of me "showing the red card to racism" increasingly looks like me trying to get my face in the papers. Me, successfully attempting to get my 5 minutes of fame. Doing it for the sake of being in the papers, and I don't want people to think that.
And 2) It's all very well being named in an article. I was named in the Daily Mail and the unmentioned Luton News that was published on Wednesday, but my picture was in neither. With my picture in the paper, people will put name to face and next week may well be interesting. "Weren't you in the Beds on Sunday?" is a question I'm expecting to hear a lot. I can only expect Mother Mitten to be furious aswell, opening myself up to something that me and her both agree I don't take very well - criticism.
I faced the plunge earlier, and "pre-warned" her that I was to be in tomorrow's paper and received a face of pure thunder in return. She claimed that I was doing it "just because I wasn't happy with my refereeing being criticised", (which isn't strictly true - but I knew what she meant). True, I'm not happy that I've been banned, but I did promise her that I wouldn't speak to anymore papers. I don't think she's expecting a picture of me though...
Earlier in the week, I was excited about my appearance in the Beds on Sunday. The local community would know that I have been standing up to the FA and their outrageous charge and I would be making people aware of their elitist attitude. On Thursday afternoon, I started to feel a little nervous and right now, I am nothing short of terrified. I don't imagine I'll be getting a good night's sleep, and I also imagine I'll be awoken by an apoplectic Mother (or God help me - Father) Mitten, throwing the paper in my face and demanding an explanation. In my head, I conceptualize me standing up for myself in the face of literal adversity, but in reality, it won't be the case.
I'll be receiving a fair bit of praise tomorrow, from aquaintances particularly, who like someone "getting in the papers and standing up against a big organisation". I like that, but more than anything, I want praise from the people who matter to me the most. Friends and family, and at the moment, it's split down the middle. Some praise, some criticise. But hopefully, it makes an impact - so all of this is worth something.
Sunday 22 April 2012
Sunday 8 April 2012
'1984'
This is an apt title to what has been a very interesting and gnarly few weeks regarding an incident on Twitter, of which I will get to very soon...
Blimey, it's April! We're under a month away from the start of a brand new cricket season that also means Summer 2012 is on its way, and the mood of the Mitten is to improve ten-fold. In fairness, I've been good recently. I've been talking more, thinking things through more rationally, and the results have been effective. I have just about got to grips with events at the Post Office, despite an impossibly busy 4 hours this morning, whilst recovering from a ridiculous idea of a night out last night. More on that in a moment aswell!
A brief summary of the past month or so can be described in one word. Solid. I've had very few blips, and the blips that have appeared out of the darkness have quickly been subdued, discussed and rationally disposed of, as if it were an out-of-date sirloin that's lay in the fridge for a fair while. I think the main ingredient for this is stability and... dare I say it, routine. I've gotten into a routine of working particular days and hours, and planning all of my social events around it, and it seems to have helped. Part of this may also be because the Hawkers, (or should I say 'Weird Blokes'), have returned from university ventures, meaning I can surround myself with friendly faces and forget for a while.
Anyway. We'll begin with last night, where I had decided by mid-afternoon that I was not to go out. I might be solid in the procedure of the Post Office by now, but if I turned up half-cut, it wouldn't be ideal. I was also unusually tired by 8pm and as the parents have started charging me board for staying in this wonderful abode, plus "other events", meaning I am quickly running out of money. However, everyone was out, so I decided upon paying Beddoe a surprise visit, walking into his house unannounced and demanding a vodka and orange. Spontaneity beats anything else. I had known that if I was to begin pre-drinking, it was only going one way, so didn't bother fighting the urge and went out on the town with everyone else! I was home early though, and got a decent enough sleep in to get through the ridiculously busy morning that greeted me! It does help that someone left a few Jagerbombs on the tables of Chameleon for us to indulge on mind you...
As I say, this morning was outrageously busy, and I was happy to be walking home at 1.15pm, where I instantly went straight for a mid-afternoon nap, where I dreamt of happy and cool things! Sorry... Where was I...
Ah yes, the title. The main event. The raison d'etre. Roughly a month ago now, I tweeted about the ex-Chief Executive of Bedfordshire Football Association, Peter Brown. He had sent a racist e-mail to colleagues, and was asked to resign. Despite this, he had been awarded with a "celebration of retirement", otherwise known as a party. Anyone with half a brain cell can see this is wrong, no? I tweeted my frustration, stating that this shouldn't happen and left it at that. I wasn't under the illusion that we were living in a country envisaged by George Orwell in his well known novel...
2 weeks later, I received an e-mail from a certain Mr.Neale Barry. Those of you with a good knowledge of 1990's/2000s football, will know that Neale Barry is a former Premier League referee, but these days heads up National Referee Development at the FA. His brief e-mail said that I had been reported for "misusing Twitter" and would get back to me regarding a charge. I thought this was a bit silly, but thought nothing of it. I did wonder what the world has become if someone of no particular importance cannot voice their opinion, but I genuinely thought I would get a warning, at worst, and then we'd all get on with our lives.
However. At the beginning of this week, I received a letter, again from Mr.Barry. I had just come home from a particularly busy morning at work, and was looking forward to a couple of days of well deserved rest. As I walked through the door, I walked on the letter, with the recognisable FA badge and knew instantly of it's contents. I opened it up, threw the envelope away, and proceeded to read the most outrageous and ridiculous charge and subsequent punishment I have ever seen.
I had been found guilty of Rule 7(a), of "not acting in the best interests of the game". I had subsequently been dealt with a 3 week ban, effective from 17th April and a £25 fine. I knew instantly that this would mean I miss very important games. I had been appointed to the Junior Challenge Cup final line, happening on the 25th April, another charity cup final 5 days earlier and a youth League cup final middle in between, and they were all to be missed because of this nonsensical charge.
Can someone please, please, please explain to me how I have "not acted in the best interests of the game" by tweeting the actions of a man who sent racist e-mails and gets a retirement party because of it? Logically, I can only conclude that tweeting about the FA is wrong, yet sending racist e-mails is right. It's good to know that the FA act fairly when it comes to issues like this. (Sarcasm alert.)
If their derisory theories are to be followed then, it makes complete sense that this blog is also "not acting in the best interests of the game", but one detail has changed. I've quit. Quit with immediate effect, because I cannot, and will not, sit here and accept being bullied by an elitist organisation with tendencies of extreme favouritism. Sounds drastic? Maybe, but this is the final straw in what has been a series of huge mistakes by my county FA and now the Wembley-based national FA. I sent a letter to the new Chief Executive of Bedfordshire FA, Football League referee, Keith Stroud, and outlined what has gone wrong in the past couple of years especially. The county has been a laughing stock, the referee community split down the middle over the most biased and abominable campaign of hatred against the only person in that place to have an air of pride, a sense of hard work and companionship. Quite frankly, I do not want to be part of a community that sends out witch-hunts for anyone who disagrees with the way that the place is run. I have received no support or guidance of any sort, and in all honesty, refereeing is difficult enough with 22 adrenaline-filled players jumping on your back, without the county who should support you, doing exactly the same thing.
Whether or not he will take a blind bit of notice of my letter is another issue, but the fact of the matter is, I am no longer a football referee. I am always free to return, whether it be next season or in 10 years time, but rest assured, I will only be returning if I affiliate with a different county. My current county, or ex-county I suppose, will no longer be my chosen county of choice.
It is quite strange that I get so worked up and antagonized by such a thing, but the treatment I have received is astoundingly bad. In truth, I had been thinking about taking a break for a while, but would probably have carried on, as it's a good way to keep fit if nothing else. But if I'm to be treated like a piece of dog excretement, then sod it.
It might be so, that this isn't over either. I'm debating further action, so if I come back to this blog in the near future, you may hear of it. If not, then I bid you a good Easter.
Blimey, it's April! We're under a month away from the start of a brand new cricket season that also means Summer 2012 is on its way, and the mood of the Mitten is to improve ten-fold. In fairness, I've been good recently. I've been talking more, thinking things through more rationally, and the results have been effective. I have just about got to grips with events at the Post Office, despite an impossibly busy 4 hours this morning, whilst recovering from a ridiculous idea of a night out last night. More on that in a moment aswell!
A brief summary of the past month or so can be described in one word. Solid. I've had very few blips, and the blips that have appeared out of the darkness have quickly been subdued, discussed and rationally disposed of, as if it were an out-of-date sirloin that's lay in the fridge for a fair while. I think the main ingredient for this is stability and... dare I say it, routine. I've gotten into a routine of working particular days and hours, and planning all of my social events around it, and it seems to have helped. Part of this may also be because the Hawkers, (or should I say 'Weird Blokes'), have returned from university ventures, meaning I can surround myself with friendly faces and forget for a while.
Anyway. We'll begin with last night, where I had decided by mid-afternoon that I was not to go out. I might be solid in the procedure of the Post Office by now, but if I turned up half-cut, it wouldn't be ideal. I was also unusually tired by 8pm and as the parents have started charging me board for staying in this wonderful abode, plus "other events", meaning I am quickly running out of money. However, everyone was out, so I decided upon paying Beddoe a surprise visit, walking into his house unannounced and demanding a vodka and orange. Spontaneity beats anything else. I had known that if I was to begin pre-drinking, it was only going one way, so didn't bother fighting the urge and went out on the town with everyone else! I was home early though, and got a decent enough sleep in to get through the ridiculously busy morning that greeted me! It does help that someone left a few Jagerbombs on the tables of Chameleon for us to indulge on mind you...
As I say, this morning was outrageously busy, and I was happy to be walking home at 1.15pm, where I instantly went straight for a mid-afternoon nap, where I dreamt of happy and cool things! Sorry... Where was I...
Ah yes, the title. The main event. The raison d'etre. Roughly a month ago now, I tweeted about the ex-Chief Executive of Bedfordshire Football Association, Peter Brown. He had sent a racist e-mail to colleagues, and was asked to resign. Despite this, he had been awarded with a "celebration of retirement", otherwise known as a party. Anyone with half a brain cell can see this is wrong, no? I tweeted my frustration, stating that this shouldn't happen and left it at that. I wasn't under the illusion that we were living in a country envisaged by George Orwell in his well known novel...
2 weeks later, I received an e-mail from a certain Mr.Neale Barry. Those of you with a good knowledge of 1990's/2000s football, will know that Neale Barry is a former Premier League referee, but these days heads up National Referee Development at the FA. His brief e-mail said that I had been reported for "misusing Twitter" and would get back to me regarding a charge. I thought this was a bit silly, but thought nothing of it. I did wonder what the world has become if someone of no particular importance cannot voice their opinion, but I genuinely thought I would get a warning, at worst, and then we'd all get on with our lives.
However. At the beginning of this week, I received a letter, again from Mr.Barry. I had just come home from a particularly busy morning at work, and was looking forward to a couple of days of well deserved rest. As I walked through the door, I walked on the letter, with the recognisable FA badge and knew instantly of it's contents. I opened it up, threw the envelope away, and proceeded to read the most outrageous and ridiculous charge and subsequent punishment I have ever seen.
I had been found guilty of Rule 7(a), of "not acting in the best interests of the game". I had subsequently been dealt with a 3 week ban, effective from 17th April and a £25 fine. I knew instantly that this would mean I miss very important games. I had been appointed to the Junior Challenge Cup final line, happening on the 25th April, another charity cup final 5 days earlier and a youth League cup final middle in between, and they were all to be missed because of this nonsensical charge.
Can someone please, please, please explain to me how I have "not acted in the best interests of the game" by tweeting the actions of a man who sent racist e-mails and gets a retirement party because of it? Logically, I can only conclude that tweeting about the FA is wrong, yet sending racist e-mails is right. It's good to know that the FA act fairly when it comes to issues like this. (Sarcasm alert.)
If their derisory theories are to be followed then, it makes complete sense that this blog is also "not acting in the best interests of the game", but one detail has changed. I've quit. Quit with immediate effect, because I cannot, and will not, sit here and accept being bullied by an elitist organisation with tendencies of extreme favouritism. Sounds drastic? Maybe, but this is the final straw in what has been a series of huge mistakes by my county FA and now the Wembley-based national FA. I sent a letter to the new Chief Executive of Bedfordshire FA, Football League referee, Keith Stroud, and outlined what has gone wrong in the past couple of years especially. The county has been a laughing stock, the referee community split down the middle over the most biased and abominable campaign of hatred against the only person in that place to have an air of pride, a sense of hard work and companionship. Quite frankly, I do not want to be part of a community that sends out witch-hunts for anyone who disagrees with the way that the place is run. I have received no support or guidance of any sort, and in all honesty, refereeing is difficult enough with 22 adrenaline-filled players jumping on your back, without the county who should support you, doing exactly the same thing.
Whether or not he will take a blind bit of notice of my letter is another issue, but the fact of the matter is, I am no longer a football referee. I am always free to return, whether it be next season or in 10 years time, but rest assured, I will only be returning if I affiliate with a different county. My current county, or ex-county I suppose, will no longer be my chosen county of choice.
It is quite strange that I get so worked up and antagonized by such a thing, but the treatment I have received is astoundingly bad. In truth, I had been thinking about taking a break for a while, but would probably have carried on, as it's a good way to keep fit if nothing else. But if I'm to be treated like a piece of dog excretement, then sod it.
It might be so, that this isn't over either. I'm debating further action, so if I come back to this blog in the near future, you may hear of it. If not, then I bid you a good Easter.
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