Smack me in the face, why don't you?

Hi,
   "That was a great game of football ref."  "Cheers", I replied, "Shame you f***** missed it." came the response.
That was said to me by a footballer by the name of Peter Davenport when I was officiating a game he was involved in. Davenports' career included playing for Manchester United and England and on this occasion he was the manager of the non league club from Wales Colwyn Bay. It was the most profound, simplistic assessment of my match officiating I had ever received, to the point I had no other reply than "Thankyou".
  At Haslingdon sports centre, I was enjoying reffing a Sunday league game, between two teams who had as much footballing talent as Jedwood have in the fine art of  musical ability, when I awarded a free kick to one of the teams for a simple foul, and the rather disgruntled and over weight defensive midfielder put his stale "beer breath" within an inch of my nose and inflicted the poetic insult "You C***" I was rather offended, but offered lienenacy and so I produced a yellow card and politely asked him to "Calm Down."  The next conversation I recall was being asked, "Do we get the points ref"? I was rather confused, I was wet through after being soaked by a bucket of water and slightly disorientated, I felt a sharp pain over my right eye with a swelling that I didn't have a few moments earlier. The player in question had physically assaulted me! I was knocked clean out and was really shaken and upset by the experience. The player was arrested and I had a black eye for my troubles.
  On a glorious Sunday afternoon I had the displeasure of officating a Under tens cup match, it was a semi final, the stakes were high and the quality of football low, very low! However the parents were as always particularly over enthusiastic as they truly believed thier offspring were without any doubt the next Rooneys' in the making. Sadly for me the game went to extra time, which meant tensions were getting higher, parents tempers were fraying and the football degenerated almost into a game of rugby! In the last minute of the second period of extra time, I awarded a penalty! All hell broke lose however after some moments of madness, order was restored and the penalty was converted to put one of the sides into the final. The ten minute walk back to the changing rooms was one of the most volatile experiences of my entire life, I was verbally abused, pushed and shoved by parents, screamed at by mothers and if it wasn't for an off duty policeman intervening I was genuinely concerned for my wellbeing.
    I was reffing a Hospital Cup tie, two local teams and one was side made up of police officers, the others some the finest rogues Burnley had to offer and as you can imagine it was a liveley encounter with, rather more potential leg breaking tackles than Barcelona esque swarve and artistic football on display. And ineviatably a very liveley tackle came in but somewhat surprising it was from a member of the constabulary side, he nearly broke the player in half, and I subsequently had no alternative but to dismiss him from the field of play, the red mist quickly descended upon  the constable, and he verbally abused me whilst his oponents  took great delight in his omission from the pitch.  A fair old scrap took place between the upholders of law and order and Burnleys' finest headcases, it took some time for order to be restored, the game was concluded but tempers remained high and the final whistle brought great relief to me if nobody else.
The manager of the police team was a Sargaent, and in the dressing room he led a number of his colleagues into the dressing room to offer apologies for thier behaviour and I was happy to accept however the policeman who caused all the disharmony was still too wound up to show me any remorse or sorrow.
I still see that policeman, he regularly wonders around the town and works the football matches, he absolutly still knows who I am, on a number of occasions our eyes have met he has still found it impossible to look me in the eye and acknowledge my existence, and that is fine, I don't think he has forgiven me to this day.
  That year 1991, ended with me with officiating in front of a crowd of over ten thousand people, and I met a footballing hero of mine, a chap called Keith Burkenshaw who was the manager of West Brom at the time, but  he had led by Spurs, who I grew up supporting to two FA cup victories and and a European cup.
I was awarded young referee of the year and I achieved my goal of becoming a class 1 football referee and passed the fitness test to make the step up, all roads were leading to The Football League.
 In 1992 I gave up my refereeing career, I was officating at proffessional football matches, and I had some amazing experiences and met some great footballers both famous and unknown. The experience of being assaulted had a big affect on me, I didn't lose the drive and the determination, but I did lose "a bit of bottle"
I lost the ability to make the big decisions, for fear of the player in front of me, clobbering in the face, just for making a honest judgement. The earlier assault was pivotal in ending my career as a football referee.
So it was another, "What could have been moment" My brother often reminds me as we watch our beloved Burnley at Turf Moor, that the man in the middle could have been me!
It could have been but it wasn't, and now as a Christian I reflect on those experiences with a sense of what a shame. I don't hold any resentment to the bloke who whacked me in the face, he obviously had issues and something made him snap that day, and I really think it was something more than a foul that didn't go his way. I don't know his name, I can't recall his face, and as he was banned from football for life I pray that experience has served him well all these years later.
I don't bare any malice to the parents who tormented me and frightened me during that "long walk" In there own way there were "doing it" for thier children, to demonstrate how important they were, there were fighting their corners and I fully understand that.
To the police officer that lost the plot, I think he is aware how is behaviour reflected more on himself than on me, I really don't wish him any harm, but I do hope it taught him something about restraint and self control.
To Peter Davenport, I find nothing but humour, he was obviously disapointed his side had lost, he didn't lose his temper, he wasn't threatening, he didn't even raise his voice, his words said everything.
May I encourage you all to consider your response to disapointment, resentment and frustration, particularly towards your fellow human being, you can say or do things that really puncture someone and what you say may be removed from your mind not long after the words have been spoken, but for the person who receives that retort, they can be scarred and burdened with that single act of hurt and spitefullness for a long long time.
God Bless you.
Alextheanglican.