After a seemingly eternal football career, a knee injury sustained forty years ago, compelled me to cease playing in 2026 and embark on a grassroots football refereeing adventure. I assumed that my playing experience, knowledge and feel for the “beautiful” game would make be a good fit for whistle blowing. While my initial season officiating full time had many enjoyable moments and I believe I did my job quite competently, I was not prepared for the frequent, consistent challenging of decisions, that being a football referee attracts.

The “touchline referees” and the majority were the coaches, always knew better. It appears that my knowledge of the game was particularly deficient with regard to handball and the offside rule. I blame the International Football Association Board (“IFAB”) for the handball calamity.

Whether the ball is smashed at an opponent from less than one metre or bounces unfavourably off a sub standard pitch, immediately the cry of “handball” comes from all and sundry on the non offending team. I would generally ignore such claims and wave play on but once that phase of play ended, there was always a fourteen year old or more often, a sixty five year old player who would want to engage in a debate as to whether the hand or arm was in an “unnatural” position. I’m sorry mate but the arm attached to your shoulder joint, is as natural as it can get. Thank you IFAB but can we go back to “accidental” or “deliberate” handball?

I didn’t fare too much better with the offside rule either, according to one particular coach on Sydney’s Northen Beaches. This was a Sunday morning 8.30 a.m. kick off, Under 14 Division 2 girls match, without the benefit of assistant referees. The away team had defended a corner and suddenly a very long clearance found the away team’s striker, just over half way. As I didn’t bring my portable VAR device to the game, in my best judgement, I considered that the attacking player, at most, was level with the defending player if not onside and I allowed play to continue. The attacking player scored and I awarded the goal. Immediately, the home team coach berated my decision, which encouraged further disagreement from the home team supporters. “Five metres offside” bellowed the coach.

There are many junior players who score very few goals during a season. When they do score, the happiness and celebration that accompanies their goal is most enjoyable to watch. To deny a goal for offside and the ensuing delight for fourteen year olds, because of a slightly contentious offside decision, in my book is against the spirit of football. This game is primarily about goals, despite what the possession football fanatics might say.  

I have encountered many respectful coaches during the recent season who appreciate a neutral, qualified official looking after their or their child’s match. Unfortunately though, there is the other kind, who consider a win, as another string to their bow, as they climb the coaching ladder of success. This variety of coach shouts instructions relentlessly to their players and it was not until becoming a referee, that I really appreciated the vast amount of information, that these players have to contend with on the pitch.

As a budding footballer, I learned to play with my friends at the park or in the street and we didn’t have to endure incessant directions from outside, on how to play the game. In fact, I never received any coaching until I was playing Under 14 football and I’m sure that the lack of formal coaching, did me no harm as my football developed.

As I have suggested previously, it is so important to allow footballers to develop their skills, without persistent advice from coaches or others during their games. Young players just need encouragement to develop their ability and most will correct their failings without realising it and they will evolve as footballers, without coaching. This encouragement and instruction by coaches, should take place at training and not in the hurly burly of a competitive match.

Today’s young footballer that might be unfortunate to be under the control of an aspiring English Premier League coach, can only be confused by the non stop directions from the sideline. The vocal coach, will shout all the modern coaching catchphrases, “second ball”, “reset” and “recycle” during the game, which may justify his membership of the coach’s union but will only confuse his players. The would be Jose Mourinhos also probably instruct their players to be “6” an “8” or a “10” whereas an actual geographical position would be far more informative. It would be far better for these coaches to concentrate on teaching players the basics – controlling and passing the ball, how to take a throw in properly or placing the ball on the logical side of the corner flag when taking a corner kick.

It was immensely pleasing to officiate at a recent grand final where a coach sat quietly on the bench throughout the match, only communicating with the team, during substitutions. Her team were ultimately victors, while the opposition coaching bench had two loud male voices shouting instructions non stop. I congratulated the coach on the victory and her manner and she simply explained that she instructs her players at training and trusts them to play as they train, come match day.

It is not just grassroots football coaches that harangue their players from the touchlines and even professional and national team coaches, including our own, are guilty of this practice. Sadly, coaches of all ages and levels of football feel the need to rant and rave and shuffle around the technical areas of the world, when it would just be so much better for all, if they would just let their teams play.

© David Jack 2026  

Within the space of 24 hours over a recent weekend, I watched two football matches. The first match from the comfort of my lounge room on the Saturday night, was the second leg of the men’s A League semi final between Newcastle Jets and Sydney FC played before a boisterous crowd of 25,082 at McDonald Jones Stadium in Newcastle. The second match on the Sunday morning, featured a ladies’ Under 18 Division 2 match between Seaforth and Harbord football clubs at Tania Park Balgowlah Heights and I was referee. This match was played before a handful of extremely well behaved parents, grandparents, friends and a few dogs, at the idyllic venue overlooking Sydney Harbour and The Heads.  

The A League semi final, contested by full time professional men was a stop /start affair punctuated by ten yellow cards and innumerable fouls. The indiscretions generally were typical of the modern game – shirt pulling, deliberate late tackles and “professional fouls”, a misnomer as there is nothing professional about fouling an opponent, when legitimate forms of tackling are possible. Of course, Paramount Plus match commentator Daniel McBreen was quite accepting of these so called professional fouls because the game is all about winning isn’t it, whatever the cost? If you are a man playing football, fuelled by an excess of testosterone, naturally you would want to exert your masculinity and come out on top?

The A League semi final went to extra time thanks to an equaliser by Eli Adams in the 96^th minute, ending 1-1, necessitating penalty kicks. Those supporting Sydney FC would have been happy with Sydney winning the penalty shootout but the manner in which the game was played and the numerous needless stoppages, were extremely annoying for the neutrals like me. Referee, Shaun Evans, was not blameless as he let the niggle creep into the game where firm action early, could have curtailed the yellow card count and produced a more entertaining spectacle. Unfortunately, the manner in which the game was played is symptomatic of Association Football in the 21^st century.

In comparison with the A League match, the ladies game at Tania Park was played by two teams clearly enjoying themselves with not an angry word spoken on either side. Smiles and laughter were common throughout, anger nowhere to be seen although on one occasion, a Harbord player attempting a clearance almost sliced the ball into her own net. “Fuck!” screamed the girl followed by laughter all round by both teams.

As the Seaforth and Harbord players were thoroughly enjoying their match, my thoughts were cast back to my younger days, playing in the park or in the street until darkness where winning was irrelevant as we racked up scores of 10-6 or the like and we never sought to beat the opponent by using foul play. We enjoyed our football, we laughed, it didn’t matter that we weren’t playing for competition points. Football was fun!

It saddens me that the nature of our football matches has changed, not for the better and the only time that a male footballer produces a smile, will be during an extravagant choreographed goal celebration. Football was always tough in days gone by and tackles were just as hard as you will see today but the enjoyment has disappeared from the game, as the obscene financial rewards for players and clubs have escalated. Consequently, players and coaches / managers will use whatever means are deemed necessary to win matches – or not lose them, if necessary.

Seaforth v Harbord women’s Under 18’s wasn’t do or die. This was not win at all costs, just a bunch of girls still learning the game but enjoying every minute of it. Half time arrived and Seaforth needed a goalkeeping volunteer for the second half and as is common, no hands were raised. Following “encouragement” from the coach, possibly a second packet of post game red frogs, the reluctant Lucy put on the goalkeeping gloves. Lucy ended up the hero, keeping a clean sheet in the second half and ensuring that Seaforth shared the spoils 1-1 at full time. The girls from both sides went home happy.

Football should be a free flowing encounter that none of the rival football variations can match but due to consistent indiscretions, that is not the case in the modern game. The 2026 World Cup has thankfully reigned in some of the unsavoury aspects of football but still, smiles are absent and even the world’s best players still resort to foul tactics, shirt pulling, time wasting and attempts to deceive the referee. The repugnant practice of racist and homophobic abuse is another unsavoury feature that contemporary football can well do without.

The popularity of the Australia’s ladies’ national football team The Matildas’, soared following the 2023 Women’s FIFA World Cup. Even when playing friendly international matches against lesser ranked countries, the Matildas have cultivated an incredible ground swell of support. By contrast, the men’s national team’s pre World Cup friendly with Curaçao drew 16,764 spectators compared to 18,441 for the Matildas’ recent friendly against Mexico. Unlike their male international counterparts, the Matildas do not consistently present stone faces and bland, angry expressions. Smiling faces in the women’s game are substantially more prevalent than in men’s football and there is also certainly more joie de vivre in the way that the Matildas play, than you will see watching the Socceroos.

Of course, spectators have always enjoyed a rugged physical encounter, whether it was the Romans feeding Christians and criminals to lions in the coliseum or tattooed men beating the Bejeezus out of each other on the White House lawn. I acknowledge that there is a gap in the skill level of the men’s and women’s game. Likewise the speed of men’s football exceeds that of female footballers but for this lifelong football spectator, I would now prefer to watch the young ladies enjoying their sport and learning their football craft at Balgowlah Heights rather than watch professional footballers, in a packed stadium, unable to see past their next tug of an opponent’s shirt or “Professional foul”.     

David Jack ©2026

Western Suburbs 1 ( D Jack)     Hakoah 3 ( A Marnoch, G Yardley 2)

In June 1971, Australia was witnessing mass protests around the country against the Vietnam War and the apartheid South African rugby tour, Gough Whitlam, then Federal Opposition leader controversially was about to visit China and Daddy Cool were soaring up the local pop charts with “Eagle Rock”.

On the local football front, the consistently strong Hakoah side travelled to Drummoyne Oval to play my team, the NSW Federation Division 1 upstarts, Western Suburbs Soccer Club. Wests newly promoted to the first division, had surprised football followers by winning the 1971 pre season Ampol Cup 4-2 against Marconi in January of that year. Proving that they weren’t going to be also rans in the competition proper, a string of impressive performances had Wests in second place behind Hakoah prior to the Drummoyne Oval encounter.

Wests had recruited extensively pre season and boasted three typically tough Scotsman in captain Archie Blue, George Kinnell and Davey Johnston. They had also signed Brian Turner who had returned from a stint as an apprentice professional with Tottenham Hotspur, the lanky Wim Spiekerman, the 1969 Golden Boot winner from Wilhelmina in the Victorian Federation and the equally lanky and experienced former APIA defender, Cliff van Blerk. A number of Novocastrians, including Greg Smith and Peter Pont were encouraged to leave behind their Newcastle roots and the gifted Greg Byles and reliable John Hargeaves were just two of the local Sydney youngsters, proving that all that glitters did not have to come from overseas. Western Suburbs also had two representative goalkeepers in their ranks, Ross Kelly having played for Australia and Terry “The Eagle” Eaton for NSW.

For a number of years, Hakoah had dominated local club football, spearheaded by Ray Baartz, the best Australian footballer that I have seen and Hakoah showcased the cream of Australian talent. Like Wests, Hakoah boasted their own Scottish contingent, including one time Australian captain Allan Marnoch, goalkeeper Frank Haffey, George Yardley, Ray Gardiner, speedsters, Willie and Harry Rutherford and a young “Jinky” Joe Watson. Aside from the Scots and Baartz, Johnny Watkiss, Dennis Yaager and Danny Walsh were all Australian internationals and there were few local footballers more skilful than their left sided Brazilian forward, Hilton Silva.

As was customary, the Wests players were treated to a pre game scotch fillet at the Five Dock licenced club and I think that coach, Tommy Dawson may have given us some pre game instructions after lunch, but a combination of Tommy’s mumbling delivery and his Geordie brogue made it difficult to determine whether he was praising the chef for the delicious steak or advising us to close down Ray Baartz and Willie Rutherford as soon as they were in possession.

Those who remember Drummoyne Oval in 1971, will tell of a hard, uncompromising surface, bereft of grass, once winter had arrived. This was not unexpected when rugby union and soccer shared training and competition matches on the pitch seven days weekly, with school sports also active daytime during the week. As was customary in 1971, many NSW Soccer Federation grounds “featured” cricket pitches on which bounces could be extremely common and injuries equally so.

Apart from Drummoyne Oval, other grounds including North Sydney Oval, Hurstville Oval and Mona Park with their concrete cricket squares, provided a huge challenge and risk, to footballers in 1971. To think that the modern footballer complains about the Sydney (Allianz) Football Stadium and the unsatisfactory drainage !!

With so many quality players among the sides, it was not surprising that a record home crowd was in attendance at Drummoyne Oval that Sunday afternoon. Although Wests and Hakoah were two of the lesser supported clubs in the first division, over 4,000 spectators attended, most sitting on the grassy hills with the miniature grandstand having been filled in record time.

Pre game, the tight Wests’ dressing room was no place for the claustrophobic. As players vied for five minutes on the massage table, an overriding scent of Dencorub dominated the packed space. This was blended with Marlboro cigarette aroma from the sides’ elder statesman, George Kinnell (no concerns for occupational health and safety in 1971). Kinnell, the former Stoke City and Sunderland professional and second cousin of the legendary Scot, Jim Baxter, was also supplied with a dram of Johnny Walker, pre game and at half time as part of his contractual arrangement.

We started brightly and after seven minutes I headed Wests’ first goal past the still agile 32 year old Frank Haffey. Sydney Morning Herald reporter Alan Speers, described my header as “magnificent” so I’m not going to argue with Alan’s assessment! Wests lead was short lived though, with defender Allan Marnoch, an infrequent goalscorer, driving a right foot shot past the veteran Terry Eaton in the Wests’ goal, before the lethal George Yardley put Hakoah, 2-1 into the lead. Hakoah scored a third goal, again through Yardley and although Western Suburbs’ display had shown that they were genuine title contenders, on the day Hakoah had too much class for the  Magpies.

Surprisingly, that season Hakoah were knocked out in the semi final play offs and Western Suburbs went on to reach the NSW Federation Division 1 grand final. We lost that match 2-3 in a tight encounter with St. George Budapest, another Sydney based club with a wealth of footballing talent at that time.

On 6^th June 1971, I was extremely lucky to have played with and against so many Australian football greats. Without advocating cricket grounds for football matches, it is a pity that local fans aren’t able to travel to nearby grounds, such as Drummoyne Oval or Hurstville Oval, as in 1971, to watch the cream of local football talent at close quarters.

David Jack  © 2026

• Original black & white match photos by Anton Cermak