Cup Final 1

Thursday 24th March. The Under 18 Floodlit Cup Final at Kempston Rovers. With my name on the programme as an Assistant Referee, it almost felt like an average Thursday night. Except it didn't really.

Turning up in a suit, looking as if we were attending an award ceremony of some description, and enjoying a cup of tea in the company of the other 3 officials and a representative of the Beds FA, who can briefly be described, "strange", (Not you, Nick)! Going through cup final protocol, that you normally wouldn't bother with on your bog standard league game. Even reading the matchday programme was... different. Upon a brief glance on my profile, I was hoping, more than anything else, that it didn't say, "Nocturnal Bum, who sits on his arse all day". Thankfully, it didn't.

After what felt like forever, we went out for a warm-up in the mild musk of a mid-March evening and as we jogged around the parameters, doing our usual "shuttles", there was me, just wanting to get the match started. It never starts as quickly as you want it to on Cup Final day..

... Finally. 7:20pm. Time to "buzz" the teams and get this show on the road. We lined up for the stupid "Respect" handshake that no sets of teams take seriously, and introduced to the "Guest of Honour", (who just happens to play in the same team as me on a Sunday morning), and FINALLY, the first whistle was blown.

Yep. You guessed it. The match was a pile of cow dung. Few shots, 2 of the scrappiest goals you're ever going to see in a football match and little incident, the 90 minutes dragged on and on. It started off alright. It took about 10 minutes for me to get a decision to make, (offside, cheers!), and despite a schoolboy error and a brave, but ultimately mis-managed taking of a corner kick, I felt I did alright. Cup final over. No cock-ups. Done. On a slightly different note, I was very pleased both of my parents turned up to watch. My Dad hasn't seen me referee in a couple of years and I'm not too certain my Mum has ever seen me don the black of the referee. That was nice.

However, my failings as a human being were torn open as we sat in the bar having a drink, long after the game had finished. All the players, their coaches, parents and the rest of the crowd had gone, leaving the officials, a few representatives of the Beds FA and a few other referees who had come down to support, talking all things refereeing. Flanners, (who I have mentioned before), and Checketts, plus myself, were sat at a table and they were giving me advice and pointing out what I could of done better. I KNOW they weren't being cruel. I KNOW this. But, ever since I walked in through my front door, I have thought of nothing else. My mind set is stuck on "criticism", and I take it all too sensitively.

I take everything way too sensitively. Any constructive criticism in their mind, is taken as a needless jab in my direction in my mind. Whenever Mum has a go at me for this and that in her mind, it is taken as an act of hate and despisement in my mind. Why am I like this? I should take this advice, and learn from it. Not take it as a personal vendetta against my feelings. Yet, despite knowing this, I still feel a little bit down from it.

I am not sociable enough at refereeing events either. Unless I am with friends who I can count upon to not think I am strange, I like to keep myself to myself. Preferring to not make a fool of myself more than speak up and speak my mind. I've always been like this. I have never been extroverted I feel, although on occasions, I am mad.

Refereeing, in my mind, should be about turning up, refereeing 90 minutes and going home again. All of the pre-match ritual and post-match analysis of your performance, just leads me to over think things. Although refereeing is like anything else in life, learning from mistakes and experiences, striving to get better, I just don't know if I want to. Keeping things simple is the way forward. Refereeing is anything but simple.

At the moment though, with things as they are, I have no choice but to keep on going.