"I am not sexist but. . " said Joe Royle in his programme notes for Manchester City's home game against Norwich last Saturday. Is it just me or does the appearance of the word "but" in such statements all "but" confirm about the speaker precisely what the speaker denies? Like, "I am not racist but. . . I object to so many of them being allowed in to this country".
Translation: "I am racist." "But", back to Joe. "I am not sexist but. . . I do not approve of female officials in professional football. How can they make accurate decisions if they have never been tackled from behind by a 14 stone centre-half, or elbowed in the ribs, or even caught offside? Yet we are now going to have one officiating at the Worthington Cup Final."
Ah Joe, say it ain't so. Say you weren't objecting to Wendy Toms's appointment as one of the referee's assistants ("linesmen" to you and me) at next weekend's English League Cup final between Leicester and Tranmere, on the grounds that she is a. . . non-boy. "In my opinion, there is only one sport in which men and women compete equally against each other and that is equestrianism. . . I know I am going to be accused of being sexist, but too many people are trying to be politically correct and no one is prepared to voice the other opinion," said Joe, his hormones racing, his nostrils flailing, his manliness unquestioned.
Mmm, where do we start? First, Joe insists there is no dispute: there is no difference between the ability of men and women to handle rowdy, 25 ft, 30 stone, angry, resentful, over-sexed stallions in show-jumping events. "But" the lads are more qualified to spot a left winger straying into an offside position in a football match? Okay. (That's rocket science, after all).
Next. Women have never been tackled from behind by 14 stone centre-halves? Oh yeah? No names mentioned, but some of us still walk with a limp after being tackled from behind by a girl called Lucy (whose right ear lobe weighed in at 14 stones) after a certain girls' football final in a suburb of Dublin in the early 1980's. Did that qualify the victim to be a referee's assistant? Nope, just almost qualified her for a disability pension, but who's bitter? Criteria number two: Have you ever been elbowed in the ribs? Joe, have you ever jostled for a taxi in Dublin city centre of a weekend night?
Criteria number three: Have you ever been caught offside? Well, yes, but some things are too private to discuss publicly Joe, so we'll say nothing, except: we've all made mistakes. Now, might we ask, has David Elleray, English football's most qualified (and, therefore, least good) referee, ever been tackled from behind by a 14 stone centre-half, elbowed in the ribs or been caught offside? No, unless these hazards go with the life of a schoolmaster at Harrow public school, which is where he earns his living. Do you remember a youthful Elleray as a feisty centre half, entrusted with the task of keeping robust Everton centre forward Joe Royle quiet during English first division games? Nope, neither do we.
Elleray never played football at that level, indeed, to our knowledge, Elleray never played football at any level. That is not to say, of course, that Mr Elleray is not qualified to referee major English games, that is just to say that he is as good/bad (delete where necessary, depending on his last dodgy decision) as your average female referee/referee's assistant, like Wendy Toms. Anyway, me and Joe Royle have fallen out over this, and that's a pity because our relationship was always good, not least because he kept smiling chirpily through his days as Everton manager and through the time he oversaw Manchester City's drop in to the English second division.
But, now, things between me and Joe might never be the same again. Especially since Kate Battersby's column in the London Evening Standard this week when she revealed that Joe called her a "****ing dyke" for querying his description of Duncan Ferguson as "a very nice young man" when the Newcastle player was sentenced to three months in jail for very nearly removing the jaw from the face of an opponent with his elbow in a game for Rangers.
Ah Joe, say it ain't so. Say you don't believe a male referee's assistant can't be as blind as a female referee's assistant or make as dodgy a decision on the grounds that he's a lad and she isn't. After all, if there's no difference in their ability to control an unruly stallion, surely there's no difference in their ability to spot said stallion straying in to an offside position?
