COME!ON!REF
Mike Fenton recalls his days as a referee – and wonders what could have been…
Mike Fenton looks back
IALWAYS wanted to be involved in football in some way and realised painfully early that I would never be good enough to play at any level above the public parks. I was never more than a clogger centre-back in the training college 2nd XI, so during the Spring of 1973 I decided to take a referees’ training course when I was a young teacher in Slough.
I’d always taken a great interest in the performance of referees and, as I felt I already knew the Laws very well, it seemed a natural move.
In those days I keenly followed the work of the men in black - Norman Burtenshaw, OBE, the sweet shop owner who sent off George Best for swearing; Ray Tinkler, much hated by Leeds fans for allowing an allegedly ‘offside’ goal by West Bromwich that cost Don Revie’s side the championship; Gordon Hill, the Hinckley headmaster who seemed to command more player respect than most; and my hero, Jack Taylor, the Wolverhampton butcher who awarded two penalties in the ’74 World Cup final.
The training course was run by a rough-hewn Scot by the name of Jock Forrester, and to this day one sage piece of advice still rings in my ears - “When ye book someone, always ge’em tae spell it !”
Several months later, in a local Sunday league game, as I took out my book to issue one of my early cautions, I resolutely took Jock’s words to heart: “I am cautioning you for that tackle. Can I have your name please?” “Jones.” “Will you spell that please?” “How d’y spell f**kin’ Jones!?” My embarrassment was later compounded at the local FA when in the paperwork I had to send off in triplicate (four bookings in the match, as I recall), I contrived to get Mr Jones on the wrong team!
Looking back, though, my insistence on getting the spelling right was not without reason, as there does exist an alternative version of Jones, namely ‘Joanes’. Although I’ve never known a footballer by that name, there was a noted cartographer of the time whose name boasted the extra letter.
Another sage piece of advice from Jock concerning cautioning was to ensure that you wrote down exactly what information the player gave you when asking for their name.
He referred to the occasion when he was in charge of a match involving a team of Catholic priests and he had to overcome his incredulity to book a Father Christmas with a straight face!
My bread-and-butter fare that 197374 season was the nether regions of the Slough & Maidenhead & District Sunday Industrial League. I discovered that trying to maintain control at that level, 22 lads channelling a week’s frustrations in office and factory into a Sunday morning conflict posing as a football match, was far more difficult than officiating in the First Division of the Football League.
After all, as Jock Forrester had explained, at the top pro level, you had two more referees working with you, whereas on the parks your assistants were the dreaded club linesmen, often the substitutes of each team.
Jock had counselled, “Never let a club linesman give a penalty!”
Again, I followed his words to the letter – I never did allow a linesman with a partisan interest to be that influential, and several times that season had run-ins with these sorry beasts when they ditched their flag after I’d overruled them.
The Slough & District Referees’ Association used to issue written instructions to club linesmen, finishing with the words “Good linesmen ASSIST, not INSIST.”
I still have the match appointment card from my first assignment, in control of United Biscuits
v Wexham Park Hospital reserves in the basement section of the S&M, Division Five, September 30, 1973.
I recall little of the match except that one of the linesmen, with his team’s kit concealed by a duffle coat, actually did a reasonable job on the line, but finally got on as a sub five minutes from the end, kicked someone and immediately ended up in my book!
Undoubtedly the highlight of my season in the middle was the day I scored the only goal I have ever scored in a competitive match!
The match was also notable for the most hilarious caution I ever issued. I still have the pink paperwork, which informs me that the game was Slough NALGO v Phoenix Old Boys, January 20, 1974, and I cautioned a young man called Nigel, for persistent and highly ignorant dissent, as I recall. After putting up with Nigel’s perpetual moaning for the first half, it was during the second half, with the score at 4-0, that I helped the Old Boys to a fifth by getting too close to the play at a corner, and the ball crept inside the far post off my knee.
Predictably, Nigel had another go: “You can’t give a goal if it goes in off you!” “Yes, I can lad, just watch me. The ref’s as thick as the goalpost, right?”
What happened next was totally unexpected. As I proceeded to book him, his team immediately surrounded me, protesting vehemently: “Ref, he’s f**ckin’ useless! Don’t just book ’im – send the bugger off! We’re better off wi’ ten !” Only at that level could it happen!
Can you imagine a Premier League team imploring Mark Clattenburg to despatch one of their big-money failures to the dressing room after a yellow card?!
With the result already a foregone conclusion, both teams actually found my contribution very funny, the general consensus being: “Good job it wasn’t nilnil at the time, eh ref!?”
Nigel’s caution cost his club 50p. I don’t recall my exact match fee, but it wasn’t a lot more than that.
The most useful experiences that season were the opportunities to work as a linesman at a higher level, assisting Class One referees in the Hellenic League, basically the Thames Valley.
My first such engagement was at Newbury Town for a clash with Aston Clinton on March 30, 1974.
It was on these occasions that I discovered just how tricky running a line could be, with the need to watch players rather than the ball and ensuring you kept level with the last defender.
You also had more responsibility than