I went to the cellar, wiped the scales I had avoided for a long time and glanced at the screen: 99.2kg. Over the past eight years, I had lost nearly 10kg. I had transformed from being a official who was heavy and unfit to being light and well trained. It had taken time, filled with patience, difficult choices and priorities. But it was also the start of a change that gradually meant pressure, pressure and unease around the examinations that the top management had introduced.
You didn't just need to be a skilled official, it was also about emphasizing eating habits, appearing as a top-level umpire, that the weight and fat percentages were appropriate, otherwise you faced being penalized, receiving less assignments and landing in the wilderness.
When the officiating body was replaced during the 2010 summer season, Pierluigi Collina enacted a set of modifications. During the initial period, there was an extreme focus on body shape, body mass assessments and adipose tissue, and required optical assessments. Eyesight examinations might seem like a standard practice, but it had not been before. At the courses they not only tested fundamental aspects like being able to decipher tiny letters at a particular length, but also targeted assessments adapted for professional football referees.
Some referees were found to be colour blind. Another turned out to be partially sighted and was obliged to retire. At least that's what the rumours said, but nobody was certain – because regarding the results of the vision test, no information was shared in extended assemblies. For me, the optical check was a comfort. It signalled expertise, meticulousness and a desire to improve.
When it came to body mass examinations and adipose measurement, however, I primarily experienced revulsion, anger and degradation. It wasn't the tests that were the difficulty, but the way they were conducted.
The initial occasion I was obliged to experience the humiliating procedure was in the autumn of 2010 at our annual course. We were in Ljubljana, Slovenia. On the initial session, the referees were divided into three units of about 15. When my group had walked into the spacious, cool meeting hall where we were to meet, the management instructed us to strip down to our underwear. We exchanged glances, but no one reacted or attempted to object.
We gradually removed our clothes. The evening before, we had been given clear instructions not to have any nourishment in the morning but to be as depleted as we could when we were to take the assessment. It was about showing minimal weight as possible, and having as reduced adipose level as possible. And to resemble a referee should according to the model.
There we remained in a lengthy queue, in just our underclothes. We were the elite arbiters of European football, elite athletes, exemplars, grown-ups, parents, strong personalities with great integrity … but no one said anything. We scarcely glanced at each other, our looks shifted a bit anxiously while we were summoned in pairs. There the boss observed us from completely with an chilling stare. Silent and attentive. We mounted the balance singly. I pulled in my abdomen, stood erect and held my breath as if it would change the outcome. One of the trainers clearly stated: "Eriksson from Sweden, 96.2kg." I sensed how Collina paused, looked at me and scanned my almost bare body. I reflected that this is not worthy. I'm an grown person and obliged to remain here and be inspected and assessed.
I descended from the scale and it felt like I was standing in a fog. The same instructor came forward with a sort of clamp, a device similar to a truth machine that he started to squeeze me with on different parts of the body. The caliper, as the tool was called, was chilly and I started a little every time it touched my body.
The instructor squeezed, pulled, applied pressure, measured, reassessed, mumbled something inaudible, pressed again and pinched my epidermis and adipose tissue. After each measurement area, he declared the metric reading he could gauge.
I had no clue what the values stood for, if it was positive or negative. It took maybe just over a minute. An assistant recorded the numbers into a file, and when all four values had been established, the file swiftly determined my complete adipose level. My value was declared, for all to hear: "Eriksson, 18.7%."
Why didn't we get to our feet and say what all were thinking: that it was degrading. If I had raised my voice I would have at the same time signed my end of my officiating path. If I had challenged or opposed the techniques that the chief had implemented then I wouldn't have got any games, I'm certain of that.
Certainly, I also aimed to become fitter, reduce my mass and attain my target, to become a world-class referee. It was clear you shouldn't be above the ideal weight, similarly apparent you must be conditioned – and sure, maybe the entire referee corps required a standardization. But it was incorrect to try to achieve that through a humiliating weigh-in and an plan where the primary focus was to lose weight and lower your adipose level.
Our biannual sessions subsequently maintained the same structure. Mass measurement, measurement of fat percentage, endurance assessments, regulation quizzes, evaluation of rulings, collaborative exercises and then at the end a summary was provided. On a file, we all got facts about our physical profile – pointers indicating if we were going in the right direction (down) or incorrect path (up).
Adipose measurements were classified into five categories. An approved result was if you {belong
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