Reds, Yellows and Green is the new Black

Whether or not Jagielka deserved to go last weekend, red cards are always the source of much debate, arguments which ultimately can't change anything. Yet the brandishing of yellow or red cards wasn't always an everyday occurrence.  Although launched on the international stage in the late Sixties they weren’t adopted by the Football League until 1976. Prior to that, relatively minor misdemeanours would result in the offender being ‘booked’, i.e his name would be written in a notebook carried by the ref. Something worse would mean a sending off. 

While obviously having laws of the game to uphold, refs were allowed a lot of leeway, resulting in a more affable relationship between players and officials. Nowadays I tend to agree with those who decry refs as being ‘robots’, flashing the cards with officious relish at the first tug of a shirt or ‘raised arm’. The best refs still manage to apply the laws whilst understanding context and personalities but they are often themselves punished for leniency, which I consider ludicrous.

Sendings off, with or without a red rectangle, were unusual in the early Seventies. A defender would virtually have to decapitate or shatter the leg of an opponent to warrant his marching orders. However, woe betide anyone who swore at the ref or linesman, as the big and feisty Wolves number nine Derek Dougan would famously discover. I also recall his fellow Northern Irishman George Best being dismissed for petulantly throwing a piece of mud towards the ref when playing for his country in 1970. It seems so trivial now, but it caused a storm at the time. It wouldn’t happen in 2018; there’s no mud to throw!

Coincidentally, Best received the second red card ever to be shown in the Football League in 1976, although on the same afternoon, Dave Wagstaffe, whose crosses had been so valuable to Dougan a few years earlier, received the very first. Curiously, both were awarded for abusive language. Presumably the same naughty words we can hear or lip-read every few minutes in the Premier League today. At least there was widespread respect for referees back then, For all the FA’s attempts at stamping out on-pitch swearing, including the Respect campaign, they’re fighting a losing battle. Maybe more f*@#ing red cards are needed?!

Perhaps referees would be command greater respect were they always dressed in black, as they were until the Premier League ushered in the green shirts. When the Man in Black controlled the game with just a whistle, stopwatch, book, a knowing wink and firm gesture, they tended to shun the limelight. It seems ironic that the card system was dropped in England for much of the Eighties because it apparently encouraged “demonstrative referees”. How thinking has changed! When referees are officially ranked in descending order of cards shown, I think there is a problem. Surely we should be lauding those who don’t flourish the red and yellow at every opportunity.

Then again we now live in an era of not one referee but four. The linesman is now an ‘assistant referee’ although I suppose the modern nomenclature avoids the problem of gender-specific language now that women have finally been allowed to break the glass ceiling in this field. The so-called ‘fourth official’ seems a bonkers idea. All he – or theoretically she – seems to be there for is hold up an electronic board displaying substitutions and what we used to call injury time, and soak up the bile and venom spat by managers on the touchline. In my opinion, they are superfluous on both counts; just replace them with a fixed clock and a punchbag!

Refs have a tough job as it is without having to face down a manic Mourinho or ranting wild Warnock. I wouldn’t wish that on anybody. I also remember seeing poor Andy d’Urso being pursued around the pitch by a baying Man United mob led by Roy Keane ,which is probably worse. That led to the authorities clamping down on such appalling displays of intimidation, threatening massive fines to clubs whose players adopt mob rule. I guess a little coloured card can be a more effective weapon to wield than a machete when you’re a ref, but it sure helps to have the FA behind you.

The Russia World Cup expanded the number of officials still further to include the VAR – an anonymous bunch of people watching the same bank of camera angles we could see at home. No doubt this will be expanded to all Premier League games any day now. Is it a positive innovation? I reckon there are more pluses than minuses but VAR has to go hand in hand with tougher punishment for diving and bogus penalty claims.

Guidelines have come and gone over the years with new instructions to refs needed to counter insidious growth of on-pitch nastiness, such as the elbow (euphemistically called the 'raised arm'), diving  ('simulation') and the 'professional foul'. I remember applauding the 'straight red' shown to Kevin Moran during the 1985 FA Cup Final against Everton, a massive talking point at the time.

I can’t say I have ever drawn up a list of my favourite referees. As mentioned earlier, they are supposed to be largely anonymous, upholding the laws of football as required of them. In the Seventies, Clive Thomas of Treorchy (why were refs always named with their home town in brackets?) was probably the best known. I don’t know whether he was the most prolific when it came to taking names of offenders but he was always known as ‘Clive the Book’. I once saw him living up to his reputation cautioning the Exeter City ‘keeper Len Bond for tapping an obstinate forward with the ball, thus conceding a penalty! Thomas was not popular with us City fans that day.

The aforementioned Mr d’Urso is remembered by me not only for that Man Utd incident but for the fact he came from Billericay (those brackets again), while Uriah Rennie made waves as the first top-flight black ref in England. I do have a soft spot for Mark Clattenburg (Consett) who overcame an early ‘rabbit in headlights’ appearance to become one of the world’s finest. If a top PL manager singled him out for criticism, then maybe he was doing his job particularly effectively. However, I shall never forget the first time I saw Pierluigi Collina (Bologna). In the Nineties, Dad and I sometimes watched Channel 4s Sunday afternoon Italian football coverage, and the sight of ‘baldie ref’ used to liven up even the dullest Serie A encounter. We used to cheer every decision and he thoroughly deserved the accolade of best ref in the world. No automaton, he. With those scary, starey eyes, he wasn’t a man to mess with either. That's what you really want from a ref!