Uruguay's Jose Maria Gimenez concedes a penalty from a handball off Portugal's Bruno Fernandes in their World Cup match on November 28, 2022.MOLLY DARLINGTON/Reuters
Near the end of Monday night’s game between Portugal and Uruguay, when everything was still in the balance, a strange play happened just inside the penalty area.
An onrushing Bruno Fernandes put the ball between the legs of Uruguayan defender Jose Maria Gimenez.
It was a cheeky little move. It so unmanned Gimenez that he fell over backward. On his way down to the ground, he stuck out an instinctive hand. This all happened so quickly that Gimenez’s hand reached the grass first, and the ball struck it.
The play was so bang-bang that Fernandes was the only player who noticed. He shot his arm in the air - the international footballing signal for “crime in progress.” The referee ignored him.
It was only a good while later that play was stopped. The officers up at Video Assistant Referee (VAR) were taking over the case. The ref, Alireza Faghani, was instructed to check it out.
By the letter of the law, that’s a penalty. However inadvertently, Gimenez’s outstretched hand impeded the path of the ball inside the box.
By any sensible measure, come oooooon. The guy’s falling over. What’s he supposed to do? Go down on the top of his head?
When they line up to face a free kick, the players are permitted to put their hands over their assets. Should not the same unwritable rule of mercy apply here?
Let us assume that was the Faghani’s initial reaction. This is the difference between beat cops and the guys up at headquarters. The referee saw something that while technically illegal, did not meet his personal definition of wrong.
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There was also the time of the game (the 90th minute) and the score (1-0 for Portugal) to consider.
In the 15th minute, that’s probably a penalty. If Portugal trails by a goal, that’s definitely a penalty. But if those two things don’t apply, that’s not a penalty.
But upon seeing it again, Faghani had no choice but to agree that it was hand-to-ball rather than ball-to-hand. He gave the penalty. The decision was simultaneously perfectly right and totally wrong. Portugal won 2-0.
If you don’t like VAR, the usual way of approaching this argument is to say, “You want the officials to be robots? You want to eliminate mistakes entirely?”
To which those on the other side say, “Yes.” Because VAR is not ironical.
How about thinking of it a slightly different way? What if it’s not mistakes we are arguing about, but opinions?
A good official (of any sort, in any field) has opinions. Presumably, her long tenure in the game or the job has qualified her to do this work. She’s seen some stuff. And she knows where the rules are slightly to one side of what is right.
The reasonableness of what’s considered “right” will vary by individual. But most people, especially those working at this level, are usually pretty close.
Let’s assume goodwill underpins all these decisions. This isn’t a question of bias. It’s a question of serving what’s best for the match being officiated. Both for its participants and for the fans watching. The goal is putting on a good show that is as fair as it can be, but not so fair that it becomes cyborgian.
Perfectly objective, opinion-free officiating - the sort VAR aspires to - does not serve the game. It serves officials. It serves the people hosting the event. Should anyone get angry at them, they can point at the replay and say, “See?!”
I don’t watch sports for sports, or not just for them. If I want to see fit people running around, I’ll go to the gym. It’s less noisy there.
What I want is drama. I want theatre. I want it especially on a stage like this. Clearly, that is best when it is provided by the players.
Watching Canada slice up the field in the first minute of that Croatia game - that’s an indelible memory. I was here. I saw that. Pretty amazing.
But every once in a while, I like an official willing to make a little history of his own. It can’t be all Hamlets, all the time. Sometimes, a Rosencrantz will have his say.
Because there is no great bar argument that begins with, “Did you see that goal?”
The answer is “Yes.” Then the conversation ends. If it continues, it is in grave danger of slipping into farce, because neither of you really know what you’re talking about.
But how about, “Did you see that call?”
People can go for hours on that one. Now it doesn’t really matter if you’re up on the facts. This one is purely subjective.
VAR is robbing us of that sweet pain. Instead, we now argue about VAR, which is a bit like yelling at your laptop. It can’t hear you. If it could, all it would say is, “Stop eating crumbly food over me.”
Here at this World Cup, few of the goal celebrations are boundless joy. There’s always an edge of “What did VAR see?” Too often, the ruling is offside, followed by a computer-generated image showing that Player A was three inches the wrong way of Player B. It may be right, but it sucks the air out of the occasion.
VAR is always right, and that’s what I hate about it. You wouldn’t want to watch a sport in which the participants never made a mistake. Not just impossible, but also sterile. Like Pong played forever. Why hold the officials to a different standard?
It’s because the video-gaming of live sports is great for the people who make money off them. It spares them the embarrassment of explaining what happened when things go astray.
But it also strips away the spontaneity, the surprise and the wonderful frustration (or elation). It robs us collectively of the joy in watching something done perfectly imperfectly. Like life.