Go For the Goals
Posted on 11. Aug, 2022 by Paul Sochaczewski in Articles, Personal essays
GO FOR THE GOALS
A modest proposal to save football/soccer
BANGKOK, Thailand
I write this shortly after Luis Suarez of Uruguay was quoted as proudly declaring that his blatant handball, with which he deflected a certain last-second Ghana goal in the 2010 World Cup, exceeded Diego Maradona’s famous ‘Hand of God’ goal which helped eliminate England from the 1986 World Cup in Mexico. “The ‘Hand of God’ now belongs to me,” Suarez said. “Mine is the real ‘Hand Of God’. I made the best save of the tournament.”
Uruguay eventually lost their next game, in the semi-finals, to the Netherlands.
I don’t believe there is karma in sports.
But I do believe that football, or soccer as it is called in the United States, is severely in need of an overhaul. My premise is based on unscientific discussions with dozens of other football fans. My credentials: I played midfield at a reasonable level in high school (for a while I was on the All-New Milford, New Jersey Soccer Team). I played intramural soccer in college. I played barefoot while in the Peace Corps in Borneo and at the club level in Indonesia and Singapore. I tore an ACL and meniscus going in for a hard tackle. I watch football on TV.
Here are my seven steps to save football. They are based on two premises – scoring needs to be easier – a 5-4 game is generally more exciting than a 1-0 game (which, by the way, is the median score of all games in the English Premier League – I made that stat up, by the way, but it sounds about right). And my suggestions address the problem that the culture of cheating in football is causing a rot in the sport.
I don’t expect the diehards to agree.
NO OFFSIDE
The refs get it wrong about one third of the time. The offside rule stymies play. The game would be much more open if attackers were free to speed down the field on a quick break, or just hang around the goal mouth, thereby forcing defensive players to hang back with them.
HIRE RUGBY REFEREES
Enough cinema. Enough talking back. Enough poking a finger in the ref’s face. No other sport accepts this kind of behavior from players. Hire rugby referees, and get them to train football referees. A single grumble means the player concedes a free kick. Any complaint (as opposed to a polite request for clarification from the captain, and only the captain), generates a yellow card. Diving, faking, tantrums, fighting, taking an extra ten-meters on a throw-in – yellow and red cards. If unsportsmanlike behavior persists, the captain will start to get the yellow cards.
INSTITUTE A “SIN BIN”
It works in rugby. It works in ice hockey. A yellow card comes with a ten-minute suspension.
NO TIES
No other sport accepts tie games. And penalty shootouts are an abomination, hated by players and fans alike.
If a game is tied after the end of regulation time, the two teams will play two ten-minute sudden death extra periods in which the first goal (sometimes called the “golden goal” in Europe) will decide the winner.
If the teams are still tied after the extra periods, remove one player from each side every five minutes, until the teams have each lost five players. Continue play with these increasingly-exhausted players until a sudden death goal is scored.
LIMITED VIDEO REPLAY
Install video cameras, with a fourth referee in a viewing console to decide controversial calls. To be used for game-changing, situations where the on-pitch referee isn’t clear what happened, like whether the ball has crossed the goal line, or whether a handball was deliberate.
ENLARGE THE GOAL
Add 50 cm in height, one meter in width.
UNLIMITED SUBSTITUTIONS
Play it like baseball. A manager can use as many substitutes as he wishes, but once a player is removed from the game he/she cannot reenter the game.
The shaky reasons why I am qualified to make these suggestions
“Americans, in their national bubble, refer to the game as soccer. The rest of the world describes it as simply football, and the other game, with five-second bursts of action, changes of players seemingly after every down, endless time-outs (the better to show commercials, my dear), sideline heaters and air-conditioners, body armor, and ridiculous concern for wardrobe malfunctions is dubbed American football. Regardless of how you name it, I started playing soccer because of rejection.
The year was 1961 and, like many of my freshman high school friends, I wanted to play (American) football. I trained hard all summer, incurring the distraught warnings of my mother and cautious encouragement from my father, went to try-outs, and was cut before I even tried on a uniform. My math teacher, Charles Koch, doubled as the soccer coach and he invited me to join the team (the Fighting Knights). For any sport, to become really good you need to start young (best example: Tiger Woods). I was starting late, but I worked hard, went to soccer camp, and became modestly competent at the suburban New Jersey high school-level. Most people think soccer was barely existent in those days, but we had a full schedule of games against neighboring schools. Someone even persuaded the cheerleaders to do their pom-pom thing at our games — I perceived their hearts weren’t really into jumping around for a bunch of lesser-athletes. Coach Koch stuck me at half-back (midfield in European football jargon) because I could run all game, was somewhat fearless, and had a bit more ball-handling skill than some of my teammates. My high point was when I rushed an opposing player and he kicked a ball in my face, breaking my nose — my mother’s warning had come true! (But I stayed in the game, dripping blood — a fine tactic to intimidate opposing players.)
After high school I played informally at George Washington University on pitches (sorry, fields) on the Mall, where our competition was, more often than not, a bunch of expat Brits, Italians, Mexicans, or Brazilians. Then I joined the Peace Corps and was sent to Sarawak, a Malaysian state on the island of Borneo. I played at isolated rural schools abutting the rainforest, and in town with the local government council team. On one occasion I tried to play bare-footed, like some of the local guys. That was followed by a succession of sports club teams with the Cricket Club in Singapore, and the International Sports Club in Indonesia.
Then I moved to Switzerland, and I sought out a suitable village football team and offered my services. But I had two serious problems. The first was that the fellows on the village teams were significantly better than I was. The second was that football in Switzerland is taken seriously. We had a technical trainer and a physical trainer — a thin Italian man who took joy in punishment — correre! My football career drizzled out, but even today, when I go to a sports shop to buy hiking boots or golf gloves I linger by the football section and handle the boots, thinking, “why not?” They come in such wonderful styles and colors unheard of when I played. I wonder — would these stylish boots have made that cute cheerleader chant my name with a bit more enthusiasm?”
— Paul Spencer Sochaczewski. member of New Milford (New Jersey) High School All-Time Soccer Team