Seeing Red

by Graham Poll

  Anyway, in 2002 I had been England’s World Cup referee and by then I knew that, if I performed at my best, I would continue to be the number one referee in England. The marks are not published, and so I cannot tell you accurately how often I was top of the ranking, but referees always had a good idea who had the top average and I wanted it to be me. I wanted to have that number one position because anything less meant that I was not performing at my absolute zenith.

  Although I felt hard-done-by about my mark at Nottingham Forest’s City Ground, as the 2002/03 season progressed I knew I was not refereeing to the standard I had set myself. I could, and should, have asked for some low-profile matches at the start of the season so that I could build up my form, but that wasn’t my style. Like the kid who used to burst into rooms at school, I met the challenge head-on and relished being given big matches.

  So, just before Christmas, I was really pleased to be given Liverpool against Everton at Anfield, one of the ‘golden games’ referees look out for when the fixtures are announced. The game was goalless and went well enough – until the eighty-seventh minute. I was aware of Liverpool’s Steven Gerrard making a challenge on Gary Naysmith but, although I was in a good position in terms of keeping up with play, it turned out to be a poor position to see what happened. An Everton player – I think it was Mark Pembridge – ran across my line of vision at the crucial moment. The assistant referee on that side, Phil Sharp, was watching for an offside or whether the ball was out of play and did not get a good look at Gerrard’s challenge either. The fourth official, Neale Barry, later said he saw nothing untoward.

  But in the Guardian the next day, Kevin McCarra called it a blood-curdling challenge and when I saw the incident on video, it was, indeed, horrific. Naysmith slid in and took the ball. Gerrard, realizing he was about to lose possession, lunged in with both legs outstretched, and both his boots hit Naysmith’s legs. I had missed a red card foul. Fortunately, I had not even shown him a yellow card. If I had, I would not have been able to ask subsequently for it to have been upgraded to a red.

  On the Monday morning, I sent an email to Joe Guest, at the FA. I said, in part, ‘Having viewed the video of the game I can confirm that, had I seen the incident, I would have sent Mr Gerrard from the field of play for serious foul play. Mr Gerrard did come to my dressing room after the game to offer an apology.’

  Incidentally, it was very unusual for a player to come and say ‘Sorry’ like that and I respect Gerrard for doing it, but because of my email the England international was charged with misconduct. He asked for a personal hearing, which was held at Bolton. The video evidence was clear. Gerrard was given a three-game suspension, as he would have done if I had sent him off during the game. I’d had a twelve-hour day, with nine of those hours spent driving through snow flurries to and from Bolton’s Reebok Stadium, and I think Liverpool only went through the charade to show Steven Gerrard how much they cared about him.

  There was certainly no residual resentment between Gerrard and me. In fact, in my last season as a referee, he gave me one of his Liverpool shirts, which he signed and on which he added the message, ‘To Graham, top ref’.

  I have quite a collection of shirts. I have one each from Fabio Cannavaro, Patrick Vieira, Steve McManaman and Luis Figo, among others. Most of them were offered to me by players without my asking. In fact, I never targeted any player until Pierluigi Collina, an avid collector of shirts, told me that he usually decided which one he would like before a match and then set about getting it.

  Before Collina refereed England versus Argentina during the 2002 World Cup, he said, ‘Which shirt would you like?’ I picked David Beckham’s shirt, as you do. Sure enough, he returned with it and I was delighted – until I realized that he had not acquired it for me. The purpose of his question had been to show that he could get whichever shirt he wanted – and he wanted the Beckham souvenir for his own collection.

  During that 2002/03 season, as I gradually shrugged off the World Cup hangover, I successfully persuaded Zinedine Zidane to give me his shirt. His team, Real Madrid, were away to Borussia Dortmund in the European Champions League. After four minutes, Dortmund took the lead. Then, on the half hour, Ronaldo was sent scampering away by a pass from Zidane. Inside the Dortmund area, the Brazilian was tackled. From my angle it looked a clean challenge, but as we left the field at half-time Ronaldo was waiting for me, shaking his head. He said, ‘Very bad referee. Very bad. Penalty.’ Players are usually honest in such circumstances so I asked Andy D’Urso, who was the fourth official, about it. He said he had seen a TV replay and that it should have been a penalty.

  The tunnel at Dortmund is narrow with a tight staircase and, as we all came out for the second half, I made a point of getting alongside Ronaldo so that I could talk to him. I said, ‘I owe you an apology.’

  He said, ‘Ah, the penalty. So now you owe me a favour.’

  I replied, ‘Up to now I have made one mistake. If I give you something you don’t deserve it becomes two mistakes.’

  Zinedine Zidane was listening to our chat and smiled. He said, ‘That is the right answer.’

  So I said, ‘Thank you. At the end of the game is it possible to have your shirt?’

  He said, ‘If you are good.’

  Thirty minutes into the second half, as Real Madrid prepared to take a free-kick, I talked to ‘Zizou’ again. I asked him, ‘Am I good yet?’ He made a gesture with his hand – maybe, maybe not. Roberto Carlos was extravagantly off target with the free-kick (which Zidane might have taken if I had not distracted him) but, in stoppage-time substitute Javier Portillo equalized. As the relieved Real players trotted back for the restart, I said to Zidane, ‘Chemise?’ He smiled, possibly at my French.

  Of course I would not have done anything partisan in favour of Zidane or his team. The exchanges between us were just banter – part of the rapport with players which I felt was important and useful. But I did want that shirt, so at the end of the tie I ‘just happened’ to be next to Zidane. He started to take off his ‘chemise’ in full view of the spectators, television viewers and the UEFA delegate. I said, ‘Not now. In the dressing room.’ He gave a Gallic shrug and, to my horror, swapped shirts with Jan Koller, of Dortmund. I thought to myself, ‘You are no Collina, Pollie.’

  After the match we were actually given replica shirts by Real Madrid. I was given a ‘Figo’. But later, after I had showered and changed, there was a knock on the door. In walked Zinedine Zidane and he handed me a shirt. It was the one he had worn in the first half. He’d given his second-half shirt to the Dortmund player. He said, ‘Thank you very much. Excellent referee.’

  I gave the Figo replica to Peter Dahlgren, the Swedish UEFA delegate and an ex-referee, for his son – but I like to think that was not why he gave me a good mark. He asked me about the conversation he had seen me having with Ronaldo at half-time. I said that I had been told that I had missed a penalty and that I managed the situation by speaking to Ronaldo. I explained to Dahlgren that I was telling Ronaldo I knew what had happened and that he appreciated my honesty. Dahlgren said, ‘That is exactly what I had hoped was happening. It shows me what an excellent referee you are, as well as being a good communicator.’

  As season 2002/03 progressed, the recovery from my World Cup misadventure continued. The season finished with me refereeing that special anti-racism game between Russia and a team of players from the Russian League which I mentioned in Chapter Seventeen. That fixture helped me wipe my slate clean with Russia, and the season had helped me recuperate from the World Cup. By the time season 2003/04 kicked off, I was flying again – on top of my game and 100 per cent motivated. I was making my good better, and my better best.

  Yet halfway through that 2003/04 season, I learned that Mike Riley would be the only English representative at Euro 2004. I will deal with that crushing, devastating disappointment, of course. But, to put it into perspective I need to tell you about another landmark moment in my life and my career which was not a low point.<
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  The 2003/04 season ended with my refereeing what is said to be the most valuable club fixture in the world: the play-off final which determines who is promoted from the Football League to the Premiership. In some ways, being awarded the play-off final in 2004 was a consolation prize for missing out Euro 2004. If I had been selected for the European Championship, I would not have officiated at the game in Cardiff between West Ham and Crystal Palace. It is true, as well, that the play-off final led to some nasty moments, but overall, I would still rate it as a positive experience and a definite highlight of my domestic career. At the age of 40, I had achieved everything I could domestically. I had refereed the Community Shield, FA Cup final, League Cup final and now the Football League’s top play-off final. That was a full set.

  One of the best things about play-offs in Cardiff, while Wembley was being rebuilt, was that the stadium was almost entirely filled with genuine fans. There was a buzz in the city and the noise inside the stadium was so loud that you could almost feel it as well as hear it.

  It did not matter to me who won, but I had a suspicion that Palace would triumph because I sensed a tension among the West Ham players and staff. When the manager, Alan Pardew, came into the referee’s room at 2 pm with the team sheet he looked anxious. In noticeable contrast, Palace manager Iain Dowie was relaxed and chatty. I’m sure this confidence communicated itself to his players.

  Before the national anthem, Pardew said, ‘Don’t fall for the old Tomas Repka trick, will you?’ Loosely translated, this meant that I should not assume every tackle the Czech defender made was a foul, despite opponents giving that impression.

  I said, ‘Alan, don’t try that one on me again.’

  ‘Well, he’s not as bad as they say,’ he replied.

  Perhaps not, but Repka was bad enough to be the first player I cautioned. My game plan was to let the match flow within the Laws, and to avoid any cheap cautions. Players were aware of the importance of the occasion and that led to a few mistimed early tackles, but nothing nasty and so I man-managed these situations. However, after about half an hour, Repka took a poor throw-in that went straight to a Palace player who headed off towards the West Ham goal. Repka set off in pursuit and felled him with a bad challenge. I cautioned him. In all, I took eight names – three from Palace and five from West Ham.

  Neil Shipperley scored for Palace and then, with about ten minutes to go, Palace defender Mikele Leigertwood put in a tired challenge on Michael Carrick inside the penalty area. I was only five yards away, and my first instinct was that it was a foul but, to my surprise, nobody appealed. Under those circumstances a referee will start to doubt his initial, gut reaction. I am not saying penalties are only given when players appeal. If someone handles the ball on the goal-line or commits a blatant foul, then there is no waiting period – it’s a penalty and the referee gives it. But, throughout a game there are always marginal, less clear-cut incidents and, on those occasions, a referee will always hesitate momentarily. That is when the genuine, instant reaction of players – or their lack of reaction – can provide a guide.

  The other point worth making here is that, as fans and players know, some challenges which are always seen as fouls outside the penalty area are not always punished when they occur inside the penalty area. UEFA talk about referees having a good feel for the game, a good gut reaction. And sometimes, the feeling in your gut is that you should not give a penalty. Referees reading this will understand what I mean, some fans won’t. Some people will probably think it is an outrageous statement, but it is the truth. It doesn’t accord with the Laws of the Game, but it is right in terms of the spirit of the game.

  At the Millennium Stadium that afternoon I paused imperceptibly to wait for West Ham players to turn and shout ‘Penalty!’ None did. The ball broke away and I let play continue. My assumption was that I had misjudged the challenge and that it had been legitimate. At the final whistle not a single West Ham player, nor any member of the coaching staff, made any comment about the incident.

  The fourth official, Neale Barry, came onto the field with some water at the end and I asked him about the penalty incident. He had seen it on a television monitor in the technical area and felt that it was a foul and should have been a spot-kick, but he also said that neither Alan Pardew nor any of his staff had complained. The West Ham supporters in the stadium did not chant ‘You don’t know what you’re doing’ at me. Rarely can an incident like that have passed by without a dissenting voice raised. I think that was because it was a close call and it was difficult to tell whether Leigertwood had fouled Carrick or not.

  However, there are two matches these days: the actual contest on the field and the match as seen on television. All a referee can do is take charge of the actual match – the one played on grass – and make honest, brave decisions in real time, based on what he sees with one set of eyes. You get one view at one speed and one chance to get it right or wrong – the same as the players do.

  But there are twenty-four television cameras at Premiership games, and TV coverage includes instant replays from different angles, with ‘super slo-mo’. And when ‘experts’ in the commentary box, and fans at home, have seen something enough times from enough viewpoints, whatever has happened looks obvious to them. If the ref has got it wrong, then they think he is incompetent.

  Although the mistakes made by footballers – all the miss-kicks, the poor passes, the poor positioning, the slowness to get a block in, the miscued headers, the wrong decisions and so on – are sometimes highlighted on TV, the players are seldom subjected to the same level of criticism. People shrug at the mistakes that players make. People get angry about mistakes by referees.

  After the Worthington Cup Final, West Ham fans became very angry with me. The after-match analysis on TV showed the ‘penalty’ incident scores of times and convinced West Ham supporters that they had been robbed. Back at our hotel, I received some abrasive comments from some of them, but I had been hardened to this type of situation over a twenty-four-year career – although family and friends were often upset by the more aggressive remarks.

  After dinner, we went into the bar for what we hoped would be a sociable finish to the day but a group of West Ham supporters started to make noisy comments. They had been in the stadium and had not thought it was a penalty at the time, but now TV had told them it was. So they kept up the deliberately provocative, X-rated banter for fifteen minutes, despite the fact that Julia, my wife, was with me.

  I decided to speak to them, reasoning that if I gave them my honest account, they might ease up. I told them that yes, with the benefit of slow motion replays from different angles, it probably was a penalty. But there had been no appeals and so I had assumed that I had misjudged the challenge and that it was legal.

  As it had in the past in different hotels after different games, the open approach worked. The West Ham lads said they appreciated the time and trouble I had taken to explain things. They thanked me. They said West Ham had not played well and did not deserve to win. I returned to continue my nightcap with Julia.

  We skipped breakfast the following morning but as we were preparing to leave a West Ham supporter in the lobby held up a newspaper with a photograph of the tackle – which proved nothing. The enormous headline read, ‘£25 million error’. A Palace supporter asked me to sign his autograph book, which I did. The West Ham supporter then thrust the paper at me and, in front of Julia, asked, ‘Do you want to sign that, you f***ing w***er?’

  Unlike the reasonable West Ham supporters from the night before, this one did not look as if he was prepared to listen to an explanation – nor were his six pals who came over. One said, ‘You’re coming with us in a minibus to east London.’

  Laughing, I said, ‘I’ve got my car, thanks.’

  One said, ‘It wasn’t a choice.’

  But Julia and I did go home in our own car, and I reflected how unfair and irresponsible that ‘£25 million error’ headline had been. I’d made a difficult, honest judgeme
nt in the heat of the moment, based on the evidence in front of me. If I had given the penalty, there was no guarantee that West Ham would have scored. If they had scored, there was no certainty that they would have won.

  Who’d be a referee? Well, I would. At age forty I had completed the full set of big domestic games. I had earned them by getting consistently high marks, by being number one. Okay, I was not going to Euro 2004, but there was nothing I could do about that. I had got my head down, driven myself on and had pulled myself up from the disappointment of the World Cup. I had made my best better and proved something important to myself. Who’d be a referee? Me, definitely.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Not Bitter but Angry

  Despite the fact that season 2003/04 ended with me thoroughly satisfied with my form, I do have to tell you how depressing it was to spend the following summer at home instead of in Portugal at Euro 2004.

  Throughout my career, I set myself target after target, like a sales person. I was always thinking of the next milestone to reach and pass. And so, naturally, the big international tournaments were the major targets. I had come home early from Euro 2000 and from the 2002 World Cup, but my reputation had survived those setbacks and I had every reason to believe I could aim for Euro 2004 in Portugal.

  The first seeds of doubt were sown in January 2003. That was when Graham Barber and I had coffee with Ken Ridden of the FA at a UEFA referees’ course. We were pumping him about our chances of big European matches and then Barbs asked, ‘What about Euro 2004?’

  He was retiring from the international list at the end of 2003 so it was a question asked on my behalf. Ken replied, ‘Obviously it will either be Graham or Mike.’ He meant Mike Riley. It was not the answer I expected. In fact, it was a bombshell. I was way ahead of Riley in marks and tournament experience.