For what seems like an eternity now, football pundits have been debating the use of ‘Goal Line Technology’.
At approximately 6:30pm every Saturday evening football fans across the country are subjected to the Irish twang of Alan Green bemoaning UEFA and Monsieur Platini for their “Archaic footballing viewpoint”.
If, like me, you support a team who cause you to ‘Give up on football’ at ten to five on a Saturday so give Radio 606 a miss only to turn on Sky Sports One Sunday Supplement the following day with a renewed optimism to listen to the curly haired Chris Kamara on why goal line technology is ‘essential for the progression of the game’, then you will agree we cannot avoid the subject.
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With very few in favour of keeping the game as it is, I would like to show you why the introduction of goal line technology would be fatal for our beloved game.
My point of view stems from a theatrical display like no other, performed at every boozer within a five mile radius of an English football stadium at 5:00pm on a Saturday. While many are suffering the tubes, traffic jams and long walks away from the football, the regular pub dwellers are re-enacting the atrocities witnessed using the only thing to hand.
Beer mats and pint glasses.
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With the conviction of an American politician and with Gladiatorial aggression the debate as to whether or not the ball crossed the line will begin amongst friends and grow to un paralleled heights of emotion with beer the main casualty as it flies about the place with no regard to clothing or furniture.
However, the aforementioned is merely the encore…
The real theatre takes place within the stadium. There is nothing like a bad refereeing decision to raise the blood pressure and ultimately atmosphere within the amphitheatre. The very notion that our hero warriors have become the victims of misjustice provides us with the very material to debate well into the evening and beyond.
Our hatred for the referees who have so obviously sided with the enemy and condemned us to defeat is akin to the shared animosity we feel towards teachers or policeman. Human nature dictates that we rebel against the authority figure, in this case the referee, the enemy, the wicked witch of the production, the Judas.
It’s the very reason Mr Green and Mr Kamara receive an endless stream of calls, texts, emails and tweets by the aggrieved fan who want their money back or want to condemn their manager to tend to the garden.
Football is merely a never ending Shakespearian play with love, travesty and betrayal.
Why allow these people to get their way and eliminate any debate or point of view? What will we do with our Saturday night with nothing to bemoan or no need to drown our sorrow?
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Introducing technology is no different from me telling my wife to “wait for the DVD” next time she wants to visit Apollo Victoria. Yes I would be a lot happier but that’s beside the point. You lose the magic. You lose the spontaneity of it all.
For anyone who disagrees, simply watch this years Wimbledon. Ok the standard of tennis will inevitably be fantastic but arguably one of the most memorable characters in the game dates back to the early 80’s and can probably now still be heard screaming “YOU CANNOT BE SERIOUS”. Besides his ability, the crowds flocked to Mr McEnroe to witness the great personality, theatrics and wrong doings unfolding on centre court.
Nowadays Mr McEnroe would endure even more frustration screaming at Mr Hawk Eye but ultimately, there’d only be one winner!
So come the Summer we will have two choices. We can either sit at home watching Mr Federer sat scratching his back and eating a banana while he awaits the obvious reversal of another point or we can head down the Dog and Duck with a beer in hand to blame England’s early exit at the hands of Germany on Uriah Rennie or any other hapless official who dared plot against the might of the Three Lions.
I know where I’d rather be and mines a pint thanks…
