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There was only one problem with that theory. I had not said anything about teaching Chelsea a lesson.
I merely said the sort of thing I had said to players for twenty-six years. During the time when Chelsea were haranguing me about the Ballack booking, I said to Lampard, ‘Your team are losing their discipline. You need to get it sorted out or I will have to.’ There is a profound difference between what I said and how Cole reported Lampard’s version of what I said. I had urged Lampard to calm down his teammates. I had not implied some sort of vendetta on my part.
But the newspapers had their headlines. Some went with the angle that I had told the England captain to ‘F* * * off’. Some were more excited about my determination to teach Chelsea a lesson. Neither was true.
The third attack on me had not happened yet, but another blow did land and hurt. During the following week the FA told me they were not taking any action against Chelsea for surrounding me and haranguing me because I had not been intimidated. In other words, because I had been strong enough to deal with the incident without looking terrified, Chelsea were going to get away with it.
With that decision, the FA let down every referee in the country – especially the teenagers taking charge of parks matches. The FA signalled to every team in the land that it was perfectly acceptable for an angry mob to surround refs and scream in their faces.
The FA had let me down as well. That season, like never before, I needed their backing. I had made a big mistake at the World Cup and, if I was going to get back my credibility, the FA needed to stop players disputing every decision I made and undermining me by crowding around in a querulous gang.
I asked, in passing, whether Ashley Cole was going to be charged over what he had accused me of saying. The response from the FA astounded me. I was told, ‘We need to investigate the matter thoroughly before making a decision.’ So, instead of supporting me, the FA were investigating me. They thought I might actually have said that I wanted to teach Chelsea a lesson. I felt hugely let down.
Then came attack number three from Chelsea. It was launched by Terry himself in an interview with Chelsea’s own television channel that was gleefully picked up by all the newspapers. He said, ‘On the pitch Graham Poll said to me that it [the second yellow card] was for the barge on Hossam Ghaly where I just kept running. Then, after the game, he then said to me it was for the fall when me and Ledley King fell. So, you know, he’s obviously had a look at it or got people to look at it and decided that’s probably the best option for him as it covers every angle for him.’
This time the clear and utterly unfounded allegation was that I had changed my story and had produced a deliberately falsified account. The impression the England captain was trying to create was that he should not have been sent off. There had only been a minor collision and, on thinking about it later, the referee had changed his story to blame a different incident.
If Terry genuinely believed that is what happened he was completely mistaken. I had not changed my story at all. On the field I had not given Terry any explanation about why I was sending him off. That was why he came to ask me about it afterwards in my changing room. The account I gave him in the changing room was the only version of events I described for him. It was the only version there was, because it was the truth.
Perhaps Cole and Terry had simply forgotten that all the match officials were wearing microphones and earpieces throughout the game. Doh! Mine was an ‘open mike’. The two assistants and the fourth official had heard everything I had said. They had not heard me say that Chelsea needed to be taught a lesson. They had not heard me tell Terry to ‘F*** off’. They had not heard me say to Terry on the field why I was sending him off. They did not hear any of those things because I had not said them.
There were TV cameras as well as the microphone, and so I was able to say, in an email to the FA about Terry’s accusation, ‘There were no words exchanged at the time of his dismissal or indeed anything from the moment he fouled his opponent, Mr King, until after the final whistle. The video of the match shows this clearly.’
I sent off my email and waited for the FA to deal with the matter. It was to prove a long and frustrating wait.
CHAPTER FOUR (#ubbbfe50a-a5f1-53a2-8103-f04fa52f9d1b)
Big Time Charlie
I was outraged by the accusations by Cole and Terry, appalled that newspapers took them at face value and devastated that the Football Association investigated me. The biggest hurt was caused by the FA.
In fact, I don’t blame Chelsea, their manager or their players for haranguing me on the pitch or the verbal assaults off it. They were encouraged to do and say what they did because, time and time again, they had seen the FA do sweet f.a.
As far as the accusations were concerned, I knew the evidence would exonerate me. I also suspected that the Chelsea players would back down. To persevere with the allegation that I had said they needed to be taught a lesson would have alleged also that both assistant referees and the fourth official were involved in a conspiracy of lies with me.
Yet there was no word from the FA of any charges against Chelsea. The affair was still being investigated. I was still being investigated. They had the reports from four match officials they were supposed to trust. What more did their investigation need? I am not sure I can convey how vulnerable that made me feel; vulnerable and betrayed. How was I supposed to command the respect of players in other matches if allegations about my integrity were not rebutted? If the FA doubted me, how was I supposed to repair my fractured credibility?
I asked to be taken off the Carling Cup tie between Everton and Arsenal on the Wednesday because I felt so downcast and devalued. Looking back, missing that game would have sent out the wrong message. It would have created the impression that I had been suspended because of the Chelsea accusations. So it was perhaps fortunate that I was told that I had to go ahead and referee the fixture at Everton. I would have to tough it out. Perhaps it would be a nice, incident-free match. Not a chance.
In the twentieth minute Everton appealed for a penalty when Andy Johnson was tackled. It looked like a fair challenge to me, so I span away from the incident to follow play. I was aware that James McFadden was chasing after me but I was concentrating on the game. Then, as clear as anything, I heard McFadden shout, ‘You f***ing cheat!’
His team-mate, Tim Cahill, was near me and grabbed my arm. He said, ‘Don’t do it, Pollie.’ Cahill knew, McFadden knew and I knew what the Scot had said.
Whatever nonsense people say about me seeking controversy, I ask you to believe that the last thing I needed that night was more back page headlines. But McFadden had run thirty or forty yards to call me a cheat. It was not a spontaneous, heat-of-the-moment remark. Other players had heard it.
Referees hate being called a cheat. The whole foundation of refereeing is that you make honest decisions. You want to get those decisions right – you strive to get them right – but if there are mistakes, they are honest mistakes. I would have betrayed my profession if I had not sent off McFadden. So I did.
The ground erupted. It had to be a home player, didn’t it? And Everton manager David Moyes proved a major disappointment. Before the match, during my warm-up, he came over and said, ‘Don’t let them get to you, Graham. We all know you are the best referee.’ Yet after the match he staged a theatrical stunt at the media conference. He produced McFadden, who denied that he had called me a cheat. Everton’s case was that the player had said ‘f***ing shite’ rather than ‘f***ing cheat’. So that was all right then! But I know what he said.
Moyes told the assembled media, ‘Once again we have a situation where Graham Poll says a player says one thing and the player says he said something different. Who do you believe?’ That ‘once again’ comment was a reference to the Chelsea accusations.
After reviewing the match report – which included the explanation that McFadden had been dismissed for calling me a cheat – Everton decided not to appeal against the decision. So I was once again exonerated.
The assessor, Mike Reed, thought I’d had a ‘brilliant’ game. But, when I got back to my hotel, a group of Everton fans did not share that view. By then they had probably heard the Everton version of McFadden’s abuse, so they spat out some expletives of their own at me.
Next morning, when I turned on my mobile, there was a text message and a voicemail from Keith Hackett, manager of the referees’ Select Group. He was in Switzerland at a UEFA meeting. He had instructed me to call him urgently ‘about a financial irregularity regarding car sponsorship’.
A what? I could not believe it. I phoned UEFA and demanded that they dragged Keith out of his meeting. With mounting paranoia, I shouted at my boss. I yelled, ‘What the hell is going on, Keith? Is this being pushed out by a club? Where is all this coming from?’ He asked me if I had a sponsored car. I said, ‘Why do you need to ask that? I have my own car and my bank statement can show that I pay for that car every month.’
He said, ‘The Premier League press office have been phoned by a paper. The paper say they have a copy of an agreement showing that you have a sponsored car …’
I replied, ‘Point one: I don’t have a sponsored car. Point two: is it wrong if I did? Dermot Gallagher has one with the sponsor’s name across the side. Keith, somebody is trying to do me, turn me over.’
My boss went back to his meeting and I made a mental tally of recent events. I had been maligned by two Chelsea players, one of whom was the England captain. I had sent off an Everton player for questioning my integrity. His manager had questioned my veracity. I had been abused by supporters. I had been accused of some sort of financial impropriety. Oh, and I had been betrayed by the Football Association. All in just under four days.
At breakfast I read a report of the Everton game in The Guardian. The writer said that if I was offended by being called a cheat, I needed to get out more. I did not read any other reports but I now know they were scathing. The Mirror’s headline was ‘POLL POTTY’ and, in a later edition of The Guardian, Dominic Fifield came to this considered appraisal of me:
Already under investigation by the Football Association after allegations made against him by Chelsea’s disgruntled players in defeat on Sunday, his penchant for the theatrical is stripping him of credibility, his apparent desire to be the centre of attention – he was signing autographs prior to kick-off – unhelpful when he attempts to officiate. He would argue, with some justification, that it was McFadden’s folly which prompted the red card, but it appears that he revels in the notoriety such controversy affords him.
Other reports pointed out that I was already in the spotlight over my ‘much-criticized decision’ to dismiss John Terry. Some reminded readers that Terry said he had been given two different versions of why he was shown a second yellow card and that team-mate Ashley Cole accused me of bias against his club. Very few reports bothered to add that I had denied the claims of Terry and Cole.
In the car on the way home, I turned on the radio – to hear a phone-in caller repeat the comment that I had indulged in an autograph-signing session before the previous night’s game. The caller said, ‘He’s Mr Big Time Charlie, Mr Superstar who loves the attention.’
The truth, if anyone is bothered about the truth, is that before the game and before the ground was open to the public, there were three or four lads by one of the dug-outs who were with one of the club officials. They asked for my autograph. I obliged. If I had not, then presumably I would have been a Big Time Charlie who thinks he is too important to bother with kids who want his autograph.
On the way home, as I drove off the M6 toll road and pulled onto the M42, I looked at my eyes in the rear-view mirror because I knew they were brimming up with tears. Alone with my feelings, my emotions had spilled over.
In any other period of my refereeing career, I would have been angered by the accusations and understandably upset by the crescendo of criticism, but I cannot imagine they would have made me tearful. Now, however, five rough days had brought confirmation of a truth I had been avoiding: I had fallen out of love with refereeing. Not football – I still loved football – but I no longer loved refereeing. That realization brought a dead weight of sadness.
Refereeing had been so important to me for half my life, but I had refereed the Everton game really well and yet still had my competence and integrity doubted. It was clear to me that my credibility was gone forever. The disillusionment and deep, deep disappointment I felt as I drove home from the city of Liverpool was intense and oppressive.
Earlier that week, on the morning of the Spurs–Chelsea game, Patrick Barclay had written a short little tribute to me as a ‘PS’ at the bottom of his column in the Sunday Telegraph. The brief article finished with two points which meant the world to me. I am not sure journalists realize how their words can hurt or heal. But, after referring to my three-card trick at the World Cup, Paddy wrote:
Two thoughts arise. The first is that I’d rather have a referee who makes an isolated technical mistake than one as weak as Stefano Farina proved in Barcelona last Tuesday. The other is that if England’s players, many of whom did far worse than Poll in Germany, were ever to show half the character he has displayed since the resumption of hostilities, they might yet win something.
I have chosen to reprint the piece of flattery from the Sunday Telegraph because of the contrast between the kind picture it paints of me and the state I was in a few days later, on that journey home from Liverpool. If Patrick Barclay had seen me close to tears in my car, he might have had less praise for my strength of character; or, I suppose, he might have understood how difficult season 2006/07 really was.
Soon after I reached my home, a woman reporter from The Times arrived at my door to ask some questions. I had given one interview, to Sky TV, in Germany after my Stuttgart misadventure and had taken a vow of silence since. So I asked The Times woman to leave. Unable to write anything much about me, she wrote some spiteful things about Tring. I was upset about that, because the people of the town had been very supportive.
It had not been a very good week so far. The next morning, Friday, a letter arrived, addressed on the envelope to ‘G Poll, Tring’. That was all. My instinct told me it would be abuse from a Chelsea supporter or a very quick Everton fan. I told myself not to open it, but I did. It was from a lad named Thomas from an address in Bishop’s Stortford, Hertfordshire. It said:
Dear Mr
Poll I am typing this on my dad’s computer. I am training to be a ref and am 14-years-old. I watched the game on Sunday and thought you had a good game. I think it is wrong for players to question referees decisions and I think it was god [sic] for you to tell the Chelsea players they needed to learn a lesson on discipline. It is not just them it is players from all teams. Some-times I think refs need to be stronger and tell these players these sort of things. Anyway got to go because my dad wants the internet. I haven’t got your address but I know you live in Tring so I hope you get this. I am reffing game on Sunday and will try and be like you.
Interestingly, even this young man assumed I had told Chelsea they needed to be taught a lesson. But his letter reminded me that I owed a responsibility to all the referees in the entire football pyramid. My responsibility to them was not to be broken or cowed by false allegations. Thomas cannot have known the positive effect his letter had on me. I wrote back to him, enclosing some refereeing ‘goodies’.
A little later that day, I headed back to the North-West to stay overnight ahead of my Saturday fixture: Manchester City versus Newcastle. The match was going to be live on Sky at lunchtime and they were billing it as, ‘Graham Poll’s next game’.
Somewhere between Stoke and Manchester, as I sat in the stationary queue of traffic which seems mandatory on the M6, I was telephoned by Brian Barwick, the chief executive of the Football Association. He wanted to draw my attention to some mildly supportive comment pieces in some newspapers. He said, ‘I hear you have been thinking about possibly giving up. Well, I hope you have been reading the more positive press coverage today.’
All my anger and frustration at his organization exploded. I told him how disappointed I was that Chelsea had not been charged with intimidation – a signal that it was all right to mob referees. I was doubly disappointed that nobody at Chelsea had been charged with anything for making allegations about my integrity. And I told him it was an absolute disgrace that the FA themselves had decided to investigate me and then had let that investigation drag on.
I said, ‘It is because the FA is not strong with people who say things about referees, and do these things to referees, that James McFadden believes it is OK to call me a cheat.
‘You, the FA, should have backed me straight away after the Tottenham v Chelsea game, or conducted a very quick inquiry. Then you, as chief executive of the Football Association, should have held a press conference saying it is wrong to question the integrity of referees.
‘You should have done that – not for me, but for every referee in the country. But you didn’t and so there will be 27,000 referees going out this weekend knowing that they cannot rely on the support of the Football Association. When a referee takes firm and correct action you don’t support him.’
Barwick huffed and puffed but didn’t know what to say. My final comment to him was a question. I asked, ‘How on earth do you expect me to go out and referee a football match tomorrow?’
Richard Scudamore, chief executive of the Premier League, also telephoned me and I asked him the same question. Scudamore said, ‘You will go out tomorrow and referee brilliantly as you always do.’
I responded, ‘And you take that for granted. You think that just happens. You have no idea how difficult that is – not just for me but all referees, given the scrutiny we are under. This is the hardest it has ever been to referee well in the Premiership. It won’t get easier and it is not pleasant any more.’
As soon as I reached the City of Manchester Stadium, I was dogged by a Sky TV crew. The cameraman followed my every step as I went inside and again later as I checked the pitch. But the game between City and Newcastle went off without a goal or controversy. The assembled media pack was greatly disappointed. I was delighted.
CHAPTER FIVE (#ubbbfe50a-a5f1-53a2-8103-f04fa52f9d1b)
No Defence from John Terry
The Chelsea affair was dragging on. I telephoned FA headquarters at Soho Square every day to check if there was any progress. I wanted the cloud of suspicion over me dispersed. I talked to Graham Noakes, the FA’s Director of Football Administration and Refereeing, or to Tarik Shanel in the FA’s Compliance Department. Every day the answer was the same: the investigation was ‘ongoing’.
Why? My report, and those of the other match officials, had been submitted within twenty-four hours of the game. Why, after all this time, had they not supported their four officials? I knew that the Compliance Department had compiled a full video sequence of Terry leaving the pitch. It confirmed that he had said nothing to me and that I had said nothing to him. The Chelsea and England captain’s version was clearly wrong. Yet the FA seemed reluctant to conclude their inquiry. Did they not want to charge the England captain?
By the evening of Friday, 17 November – twelve days after the match at Tottenham – I’d had enough waiting. I telephoned Graham Noakes at the FA and threatened to pull out of the following day’s game (Reading versus Charlton) and said that unless there was some action on the inquiry I would give a story to a newspaper telling them of my disgust with the football authorities. I would say that the FA had failed every referee in the country. After all, that is exactly what they had done.
Just making my double warning endangered my career. If I had actually carried out either threat, then who knows what would happened. The authorities find it a lot easier to sack a referee than to back him.
I did referee Reading’s game against Charlton, but I should not have – I was terrible. My confidence was shot to pieces. The FA knew I would go through with the other threat if necessary. I would definitely take my story to a newspaper because I’d had enough.
Finally, on 30 November, twenty-five days after the Spurs–Chelsea game, the FA published a statement on their website. It said that John Terry had been charged with improper conduct for making his allegation that I had changed my story about his sending-off. The rest of the FA statement is worth reporting because it tells you all you need to know about that organization. It read:
Graham Poll has also been cleared by The FA of saying anything inappropriate towards Chelsea players during the same match regarding their discipline. Responses sought from Ashley Cole, Frank Lampard, Chelsea FC and the match officials confirm that Poll did not say that Chelsea needed “to be taught a lesson”. There will be no action against any parties on this matter. Chelsea manager José Mourinho has been reminded of his responsibilities for media comments related to Poll’s performance in the same match and asked to use the relevant official channels to give feedback on the performance of referees. He will not face any formal disciplinary action.
Once again, I was vindicated. I had not said that Chelsea needed to be taught a lesson. I had been cleared. Cole, however, was not punished at all for glibly making the accusation, nor was Mourinho punished for suggesting that I was incompetent and that I did not care. The Chelsea manager had been ‘reminded of his responsibilities’. That was telling him.
Terry had fourteen days to respond to the charge. Initially Chelsea indicated that he would request a personal hearing. Chelsea normally hire top barristers for disciplinary hearings and it seemed they were gearing themselves up for another fight with authority, but then on Monday, 8 January, more than two months after the match, Terry – or someone on his behalf – contacted the FA to withdraw the request for a personal hearing and to admit the charge. The England captain’s admission was an acceptance that his version of events was inaccurate.
The next day the FA held their hearing, using only written submissions. Terry was fined £10,000 – about a morning’s wages. That was telling him as well. However, the FA issued an unprecedented statement. It said: ‘We were extremely disappointed the integrity of Poll was questioned. We note the late admission to the charge and the excellent previous disciplinary record of John Terry. But we are also disappointed that no public apology had been forthcoming for his admitted improper conduct.’
It was a limp, puny condemnation. But it was still a condemnation of the England captain by the Football Association and so it was, in its own way, remarkable.
Ashley Cole had blithely sworn at me and then made shocking accusations about me, but at least his remarks had been straight after the game when he was steamed up about losing to Spurs. By contrast, Terry had produced his inaccurate allegations two days after the match, when he had had time to think about what he wanted to say about his sending-off.
His account had made damaging allegations about what I had said. Video recordings disproved his account – and yet he simply kept quiet. He simply let the FA case against him proceed and paid the paltry fine. He did not apologize for his account, even though it questioned the integrity of a referee and added to the corrosive criticism of officials which erodes the entire game.
David Beckham, Terry’s predecessor as England captain, demonstrated privately to me that he is a decent, caring human being. By sending me a message of support in Germany and then telephoning as soon as I got home, he behaved as I think an England captain should.
John Terry had his version of events proven false and then was not big enough to apologize or even acknowledge publicly what he had done.
You will make your own judgement about whether that behaviour befits an England captain. I know what I think.
CHAPTER SIX (#ubbbfe50a-a5f1-53a2-8103-f04fa52f9d1b)
Stop the Ride
By the time the Football Association’s disciplinary wheels started to move to exonerate me, Julia and I were on our way to Lavenham, in Suffolk, for a break. But there was no break from recognition.
We were pulled over by a police car after a slightly dodgy overtaking manoeuvre but the officers really stopped me because they realized it was me. They let us continue on our journey after they told me they were Ipswich fans – and after I pointed out that I had refereed their club’s 9–0 home defeat by Manchester United in 1995.
After checking in at the hotel, we went for a walk but a white van stopped and the driver wanted to ask us for directions to somewhere or other. He climbed out of his van and the first thing he said was, ‘It’s Graham Poll.’
Then, that night, we ordered drinks in a pub and a guy in his mid-thirties said, ‘I’ll get those … it is Graham isn’t it? I feel for you. You’ve had a rough time. I’ve started refereeing this season and I base my game on yours. So I’m shit as well.’
Next, at dinner in our hotel, a couple at a nearby table started talking about me loudly enough for me to hear. And finally, after signing the bill but then deciding I wanted to add to it by buying a bottle of wine, I was told that two waiters had taken the bill because they wanted to copy my signature.
I was not quite sure what that was about. But I was sure that Julia and I would never ‘get away from it all’ while I remained controversial Graham Poll, the referee who made the huge mistake in the World Cup. I started to understand that the 2006/07 season should be my last as a referee.
There is no upper age limit for referees in England now, thanks to anti-age discrimination laws. But FIFA referees must retire from the international list at the end of the calendar year in which they reach 45. So I would come off the international list in 2008, and I had always intended to stop refereeing altogether that year. The plan was that I could either quit after the 2008 European Championships or at the end of that year. I would not continue refereeing in England without the international badge. I had worked so hard to earn it.
After the 2006 World Cup, I knew I would not be going to Euro 2008. But once I had decided not to quit there and then, I still had 2008 in my mind as my retirement year. That meant at least two more seasons and possibly two and a bit. But as the first of those two seasons unfolded, and I became dispirited and disillusioned, I began to think that I would hang up my whistle – as the cliché goes – in the summer of 2007.
In November 2006 I went to see Graham Barber – the ex-referee and a good, good friend – at his place in Spain and he said, ‘Get through this season and then see how you feel.’ He told me I should not let ‘them’ beat me. By them, he meant the unsupportive football authorities. But, increasingly in the next few months, I began to suspect that I was already beaten.
I had come home from the World Cup with a terrible, mortal wound. To keep going for two more seasons, as I wanted, I needed support from the FA. Yet they allowed my integrity to be questioned. Instead of supporting me, the FA just looked on as my wound was ripped open and made worse.
In December 2006, I refereed AC Milan against Lille in the Champions League. As the teams were waiting in the tunnel before the tie, Dario Simic, Milan’s Croatian midfielder, came over to me. I had sent him off on that fateful night in Stuttgart. In Milan, Simic looked me straight in the eyes and said, ‘I am so sorry for what happened. We knew Simunic had already been booked. We should have told you. I am so sorry.’
Lille won 2–0. After the game, Simic came over to me again. He repeated. ‘I am sorry. Please accept my shirt.’ I did not know whether to laugh or cry, hug him or hit him. In the end, I just accepted the shirt – in the spirit in which it had been offered.
Later, Simunic promised to send me a shirt as a memento of the night we made history. I accepted that gesture as well with as much good grace as I could muster. But there could be no closure about Stuttgart. Every time I was involved in a refereeing controversy, it coloured people’s perception of what had happened and was usually mentioned in the media reports.
Yet one game gave me a glimpse of how things might be different for me, and for all referees – if all managers were as honest as Stuart Pearce. In the very next match I reffed after going to Milan, I red-carded Manchester City’s Bernardo Corradi in the final minutes of a defeat at Old Trafford. I had already cautioned him and then, in my opinion, he ‘dived’ to try to win a penalty. I cautioned him again and so sent him off.
My decision was widely praised, but only because Pearce, the City manager, backed me and not his player. Pearce said, ‘I have no complaints about the sending-off. Bernardo went down a little bit too easily and I am not like the other nineteen managers, who would sit here and give you a load of cock and bull about it.’
Great. That is what you want to hear when you have sent someone off. How could the fans or the press have a go at me when Pearce had not? That lifted my spirits, and that game at Old Trafford was followed by a run of matches which went well. But then my last two assignments of 2006 brought two more rows.
Late in the Charlton versus Fulham match, on 27 December, assistant referee Steve Artis flagged for handball by Charlton’s Djimi Traore. I was in no position to see, so I backed my assistant. Fulham equalized from the free-kick. TV replays showed it was not handball and so Charlton, who were battling to avoid relegation, felt robbed. After the game, Charlton manager Alan Pardew complained, ‘In the last few minutes of the match, when my players have forgotten what it’s like to win a game of football, I expect them to be nervous and make silly mistakes. I don’t expect match officials to make similar mistakes.’
The point, surely, is that officials do make mistakes, exactly like players. It was Artis’s first season but I wrote in my official report that I would be happy for him to run the line in any game I refereed. He had been outstanding until that one, human, error.
Then, with four days of 2006 remaining, I was fourth official at Vicarage Road for Watford against Wigan. In the second half, with the score at 1–1, torrential rain turned the pitch into a paddy field. Steve Tanner, who was in charge of his second Premier League game, asked my advice but it was still his decision to abandon the game. It was the correct decision, as well. But it was not the weather or even the ref who got the blame. According to the many media reports that highlighted and criticized my involvement, it was me. When I raised a glass on New Year’s Eve, the toast was, ‘Good riddance to 2006.’
January was like December, with ups and downs. I believe the expression is ‘a rollercoaster of emotions’, but the truth is that, by then, I knew I wanted to get off the ride. That thought became sharper and more definite in January and soon it was an irrevocable decision. There were still plenty of ‘ups’ but they were never sufficient to make me change my mind. The 2006/07 season would be my last.
On the last day of January, I was appointed to a Chelsea match for the first time since John Terry had made up that story about me. The Premier League had waited and waited, but we all knew that I had to officiate with Chelsea again.
