Every weekend, I watch the same scenario unfold.

A young referee – 15, maybe 16 years old – walks onto the pitch. Recently trained, nervous as hell, giving up their weekends so your child can play football. They’re hesitant with decisions. They don’t blow the whistle with confidence. They go with the shout because they’re still learning what match control actually feels like.

And you, standing on the touchline, you deal with it. Initially.

You understand they’re new. You bite your tongue when a throw-in goes the wrong way. You remind yourself they’re just a kid learning. You are, in that moment, fairly rational.

Then comes the flashpoint.

A challenge in the box. A potential penalty. The young ref bottles it or gets it wrong or doesn’t see it the way you do. And something shifts. You stop being a parent/carer/guardian (PCG – Danny told me to use this term) watching their child play football. You become a football supporter. That emotion turns, and you explode.

I’ve seen it hundreds of times. That transformation happens in seconds. The rational person you were thirty seconds ago is gone, replaced by someone screaming at a teenager about competence, bias, fairness—whatever justification your anger reaches for in the moment.

And here’s what you don’t realise as you’re losing it: you’ve just given every other PCG permission to do the same.