By now you have all had or are having the debate, or perhaps you and your peers are fortunate enough to be in total agreement. The ref was bent, paid off by FIFA, the Brazilian FA, the sponsors; the ref was invested in a Brazil victory, encouraged as he was by his superiors, fearful as he was of the spectators and the protest movement gathering outside; the ref is simply weak and incompetent. These are the three primary schools of thought when assessing the performance of Japan’s Yuichi Nishimura and his team of officials in Brazil’s World Cup opener on Thursday evening, but the likelihood is it is only the one that sits in the middle that comes close to nailing the reality.
Let us consider the corruption angle. It seems naïve to ever dismiss the notion of FIFA compromising the principles of sport for the benefit of themselves or their allies, considering that has been their raison d'être for at least forty years, since the vile João Havelange first assumed its Presidency in 1974. However FIFA generally concern themselves more in how they can exploit the game rather than how they can directly influence its outcomes. Admittedly it is undoubtedly in their interest to see Brazil progress in the tournament, whether it be from the perspective of keeping anti-World Cup protests – often aimed in their direction – peaceful, or in keeping the world at large and the population of Brazil invested in the television coverage and the advertising messages that comes with every game. How many more in Southeast Asia would be tuned in to a second round tie between Brazil and Chile than they would Cameroon v Chile, for example?
But it strikes me that match fixing could never be their bag. For one, FIFA have never shown themselves at being particularly adept at covering things up. The likes of Andrew Jennings and the Sunday Times have been able to expose their malpractice with a degree of relative ease (not, that is, to undermine the journalistic work put into such exposés). The only reason these and other such revelations have failed to yield any sanction against those responsible is not just the uniquely unaccountable nature of FIFA (had these been government ministers then many would be serving jail time by now) but also the bureaucratic nature of their crimes. It is true that the decisions that favoured South Korea in 2002 seemed clearly premeditated, but does one really imagine that the governments and football associations of Spain and Italy would allow FIFA to continue acting with their trademark impunity should evidence of match fixing against their national teams be revealed? It strikes me as too large a risk with too little reward for those who still have so much more money to plunder from the game.
So does it stand to reason that the officials were merely incompetent, a choice of referee that has embarrassed FIFA as much as it has enraged us, the fair play-seeking public? While not an unusual occurence, this seems too simplistic an explanation. The decisions that had a major effect on the game – the lack of red card for Neymar for a premeditated swing of the elbow into Luka Modrić’s face, the penalty award at a critical juncture in the game for little more than Dejan Lovren’s presence in the penalty area, the disallowed goal for what seemed to most to be a header impressively and legitimately won – fell so overwhelmingly in the home side’s favour that for them to be simple honest mistakes would be to suspend disbelief, in the same way an audience member might suspend disbelief when watching a sports film like The Mighty Ducks, or Space Jam.
No, many will be reaching the conclusion that strikes the right balance between seeming healthily sceptical while avoiding looking unhealthily conspiratorial: the referee was simpler a ‘homer’, a weak-willed individual incapable of upsetting a vociferous crowd, perhaps even concerned he could play a part in triggering riots across the country.
This line of thinking almost certainly is along the right lines – let’s not pretend that any of us know what it’s like to do an incredibly difficult job with 50,000 passionate Brazilians telling you exactly in which way you should do it. But in castigating the referee for showing such weakness, they often imply a narrative that strikes me as inside-out, one that goes along the lines of: the referee saw exactly what happened, he got intimidated by the crowd, he pointed to the spot because Brazil winning makes everybody happy. The emphasis of this interpretation is on the official’s disinterest in calling something right; it ignores his outright fear of getting something wrong – or, rather, getting the wrong thing wrong.
Consider the decisions again and hypothetically consider that they were in fact the right decisions – Neymar’s challenge was clumsy but perfectly innocent, an honest attempt for the ball; Lovren tugged Fred cynically; Ivica Olić had eyes only for the goalkeeper. In the eyes of the referee, all of these may have been a possibility, no matter how ridiculous that now seems to us with the benefit of replays. And then consider that the referee had in fact got these decisions wrong – incorrectly sending Brazil’s star player off in the opening match, condemning him to three matches of suspension! Incorrectly failing to award a penalty to the host nation as they desperately seek a goal! Allowing an illegitimate goal that enables tiny Croatia to nefariously steal three points from global favourites and pioneers of the game Brazil!
It would be career suicide. And thus we reach the question that truly delves into the heart of the matter – what motivates a referee? It is a question brilliantly explored in Tim Parks’ A Season With Verona, as he and his son continuously question why Italy’s referees barely even attempt to conceal their bias towards the giants of Serie A, enraging fans of every small club in the process. One can also gain an insight from Swedish film The Referee, a documentary tracking the story of Swede Martin Hansson and his journey towards being selected as a 2010 World Cup official (remarkably making it despite being the official who failed to spot Thierry Henry’s handball against Ireland in the playoffs). What these examples tend to show us is that the referee is no less aspirational or careerist than the player – he too wants to climb the ladder, wants the world to recognise him as the best, wants to walk out of the tunnel at World Cup and Champions League finals.
And while the path to the top in Serie A, and thus Europe, is forged by not pissing off Juventus or AC Milan due to the influence they hold within the league’s administration, the path to refereeing the World Cup final most certainly involves avoiding a riot caused by screwing over the host nation. Ironically, Nishimura has probably ensured that he never will reach this level, such was the blatant nature of his mistakes. But whether consciously or not, the Japanese most likely internally calculated that invoking the wrath of Croatia was a much smaller risk than invoking that of Brazil, the wider world and his employers.
So while Nishimura probably derives no pleasure from now being the centre of the world’s attention, the real tragedy is that none of this will be any consolation for a Croatian side that played at a level deserving of more respect. Not only were they and we the audience denied a potentially absorbing 20 minutes of football that could have gone either way; it also affirmed to us that in certain contexts in football there is no such thing as the level playing field. Regardless of whatever psychology we choose to apply to the referee, Brazil went into that match with a distinct advantage over their opponents that had nothing to do with their ability or application – and the same will be true on Tuesday when they face Mexico.
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