Those wacky NRL refs, they’ve done it again haven’t they? After a round of NRL that saw more edge of the seat finishes and unlikely escapes than an entire season of MacGyver, once again the men in the middle have hogged the headlines.
And a part of me can’t help but think they’ve brought all this attention on themselves.
Once upon a time you knew where you stood with rugby league referees. Refs were the buzz-cut sporting killjoys who worked during the week as auditors for the water board, in-between yelling at the neighbourhood kids for knocking the tops off their rose bushes. On the weekends they would get their revenge on the world by policing both sides like a Christian Military Reform School Headmaster, demonstrating all the flexibility and charisma of a telegraph pole.
If throughout the course of the match a player was to accuse them of making a dud call, they would just keep blowing their whistle until you shut up. Players did this out of fear of making it into their little black book of grudges.
This has all changed in recent years with refs taking on a far cuddlier persona. Maybe its part of the push to get more ex-players officiating. Maybe its new refs boss Bill Harrigan’s celebrity charisma rubbing off on his clones. Maybe it’s just the strawberry pink shirts.
Whatever it is, suddenly they’re out there pinching the limelight with their dazzling smiles and getting their ripped torsos out for men’s fitness magazines, instead of sitting in the dingy ref’s shed studying the rulebook . Most worryingly of all, they’re getting dropped!
Dropped! The modern refs are so nice they’ve started admitting mistakes. “Sorry Sharkies,” said slick Willy this week, “we know we goofed costing you the game, two vital competition points and maybe a major sponsor, but next time at Northies the lemon squashes are on us, ok?”
This move may sound like the reasonable and polite thing to do, but how far do you get as a ref being reasonable and polite? Trust me, when you’re reffing a junior game making sure the defence is onside, only to look back to the ruck to see the ball gently rolling into no-mans land. With fifty two fingers pointing in different directions and two invisible touchies, all of a sudden there isn’t a whole lot of room left for polite and nice.
The only thing we should feel for the ref is fear, for we expect fearlessness from them when making snap decisions. To have the sword of Damocles forever hanging over their head on every play can only lead to hesitation by officials, and hesitation only leads to more errors and frustration.
So let’s give the refs their mojo back. Cancel the magazine shoots, throw out the public relations manual and give them back their white shorts and walk socks. If they stuff up, hey, chances are they’ll feel worse about it the next week than you do.
And anyway, if you really want to hold them to task, you can always just give them a spray from the stands with your fellow lunatics the following week.
Always works for me.
Vic_Arious@twitter.com
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