Seeing Red by Graham Poll Page A

central midfielder and the left-forward. Because referees run a diagonal path throughout a match, those were the players I most often found myself near. I believed they had been instructed to target me.
    The indignation I felt – the outrage – was because the allegation behind their remarks attacked my basic integrity. I had worked for twenty years to referee the Cup Final. It wasmy big occasion. Yet they were saying I was dishonest. Every little comment they made was like a slap in the face.
    Then, right at the finish, when the teams were waiting to go up to collect their medals, a member of the Villa backroom staff said to me, ‘You f***ing Chelsea fan. You c***.’ That was the last straw. The comment touched a raw nerve. I confronted him and although I have never been someone who hits people, I honestly think I might at least have grabbed him if Joe Guest had not intervened. That would have given the News of the World a real story.
    Then, as I climbed the famous thirty-nine steps to collect my own medal, the Villa fans booed and repeated the News of the World’s false allegation. Peter Jones said the finest moment of his life – of his life! – was at the end of the 1999 Cup Final. In the moment before he left the pitch, he looked back at the scene, with the winning team doing their lap of honour and the fans cheering. He opened the presentation box in his hand, looked down at his medal, and thought, ‘It doesn’t get any better than this.’ On my big day, the Villa fans were at the tunnel end and so I left the arena to catcalls from people suggesting that I was biased.
    I can’t leave the subject of that Villa squad without detailing some other exchanges with John Gregory over the years, because one of the things he said has stayed with me.
    The first time he spoke to me was during a game against Charlton Athletic when he was Leicester City’s assistant manager. As I left the pitch at half-time, Gregory said, ‘You must be from Slough’ and shook his carefully coiffured head. I did not have a clue what he was on about. Then, three minutes from the end, I awarded Charlton a penalty. It was not one of my best decisions. Charlton scored from the spot to condemn Leicester to defeat.
    Within two minutes of the final whistle, John Gregory came to my changing room. ‘Do you mind if I sit down?’ he asked, as he sat down. I never objected to any coach or manager coming to ask any questions in a calm and dignified manner. How they approached me was more important than whether they obeyed the ‘wait thirty minutes’ rule.
    Gregory stayed there, sitting in the officials’ room, while I showered. Eventually, he said, ‘Pollie, I can’t face them. I can’t face the players. You robbed us.’ He, too, did not think the penalty was one of the best decisions I had ever made. There was no point in us having a long discussion, so I wanted to get rid of him. But I was still intrigued. ‘Before you go,’ I said, ‘I’ve got a question for you. What was all that “You must come from Slough” business?’
    He explained, ‘I was born in Windsor and I hate everyone from Slough.’ That cleared that one up then. He continued, ‘You’re a really good referee but you want to be popular. You want to be liked as well as being a good referee. Good referees aren’t liked. We respect you. Don’t try to be popular.’
    He was spot-on. I remembered that remark. It helped me to be brave in decision-making later in my career and I have used the sentiment when talking to other referees. As I said in an interview with the Daily Telegraph before that 2000 FA Cup Final, referees are the Aunt Sallies of football. We are not there to be liked. We are there to try to make the right decisions.
    So John Gregory gave me food for thought that day when his team lost to Charlton. He probably did not need to add, as he left the