I read about the world’s greatest soccer referee in the NYT today:
http://nytimes.com/2005/02/19/international/europe/19profile.html
A Soccer Superstar Prepares to Hang Up His Whistle
By JASON HOROWITZ
VIAREGGIO, Italy
PIERLUIGI COLLINA, Italy’s most successful soccer star, has never even come close to scoring a goal. Yet his icy glare and head as bald and polished as a doorknob have made him one of the most recognizable figures in the world’s most popular game. Not as a player, but as a referee.
“That’s not always helpful,” Mr. Collina, a 45-year-old financial adviser, said of his conspicuous pate, which has led to his being called everything from Nosferatu in black shorts to soccer’s bald beacon. “If you were doing a poor job, everyone would know it was you.”
By most accounts, Mr. Collina does not do shabby work. The international soccer federation has named him world’s best referee in six out of the last seven seasons, during which time he has officiated the finals of the World Cup and other top tournaments. His swift and fearless dispensing of justice on the field, and the aplomb with which he throws the book at the most pampered prima donnas on the world’s most revered teams, has made him a cult figure for millions of fans.
At the 1996 Olympics in Atlanta, the entire Chinese team came up to him after a match, one by one, seeking autographs and pictures with Italy’s unlikely idol. “Even an injured player came hopping off the bench,” he said.
But despite the accolades, this may be the last season for soccer’s reigning lawman. The international and Italian soccer federations have a 45-year age limit on referees, which means that Mr. Collina, whose birthday was last week, will effectively be benched after the season’s final whistle blows in June.
“If they don’t change the rule, it would be a shame, because Collina is a real treasure for the sport,” said Tullio Lanese, the president of Italy’s referees’ union, which is currently lobbying to raise the retirement age to 48. “When there is a great athlete, he deserves a chance.”
Mr. Collina refuses to talk about efforts under way to change either the international or the Italian rule. But in his 2003 book, “The Rules of the Game,” he wrote that the prospect of having to call it quits left “a bitter taste in my mouth” and that age discrimination against arbiters was “a real pity” for soccer.
That book, translated into nearly a dozen languages, including Greek and Japanese, competes for space with dozens of trophies in his modest home in this seaside town. Mr. Collina, dressed in dark jeans and a black sweater, sat for a light lunch of pasta and pears before his training session on a recent afternoon.
INTENSELY serious about refereeing, which earns him more than $200,000 a year, Mr. Collina works out four days a week. Before a match he also reads up on the players and spends up to 15 hours watching tape. Tall stacks of soccer videocassettes make a skyline on the television in the living room.
“You must know everything,” he said. “The tactics, the skills of the players; for a referee it is important not to react to something, but to know what is going to happen. Reacting is too late.”
He also claims to have an innate resistance to anxiety, and credits nerves of steel for getting him through everything from economics exams in college to championship matches.
That mix of confidence and concentration has prompted corporations like IBM and Unilever to hire him as a consultant to help develop their employees’ decision-making skills. His on-field performance, business savvy and distinctive dome have led to endorsements and appearances in television commercials, music videos and even a fashion show.
They have also made him a somewhat peculiar icon for Italy, a country where court rulings are rarely final and where Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi has characterized judges as lunatics.
“I don’t make bad calls,” Mr. Collina said, explaining why a recent dinner with Mr. Berlusconi, who also owns one of Italy’s top soccer teams, was so cordial.
Not everyone agrees. Fans of Juventus, the New York Yankees of Italian soccer, charge that Mr. Collina is biased and say he has cost their team matches and championships.
“The more you rule against Juventus, the more famous you get, and Collina wants fame because he wants sponsors and money,” said Sergio Vessicchio, the creator of the “I Hate Collina” Web site, which has registered more than 200,000 hits over the last two years. “He makes more mistakes than anyone, but no one says anything because he is now considered a national treasure. Give me a break.”
Despite such criticism, Mr. Collina has consistently received the highest profile assignments in soccer and, for the most part, enjoys his country’s esteem.
After Mr. Collina presided over the World Cup final in 2002, the president of Italy, Carlo Azeglio Ciampi, honored him for exporting a positive image of Italy to the world. (On the other hand, the country’s star player, Francesco Totti, was thrown out of last year’s European Championships for spitting in an opponent’s face.)
On the field, Mr. Collina’s approach to refereeing ranges from laissez-faire to rigorous interventionism, depending on the demands of the game. If the players abstain from kicking one another’s shins or faking injuries to draw fouls, he is willing to silence his whistle and let them play. But when he senses that a player is trying to put one over on him, his blue eyes can pierce like ice picks, and his slow gait toward an offending player has left many a grown man quaking in his cleats.
Aldo Biscardi, the host of one of Italy’s more popular soccer talk shows, called Mr. Collina “one of the greatest of all time,” citing his unwavering independence on and off the field. “There is a problem in Italy that the referees give too many calls to the big clubs,” Mr. Biscardi said. “The big clubs don’t love him, but he couldn’t care less.”
THAT respect for law and order was instilled in Bologna, where he was brought up by his mother, a schoolteacher, his father, a clerk at the Ministry of Defense, and the strict nuns who taught in his grade school. He refereed his first match at 17, and immediately took a liking to dispensing of justice on the field.
But some players started contesting his authority when, at 24, Mr. Collina developed Alopecia Areata, an autoimmune skin disease that causes hair to fall out of the body. “Some thought losing hair could be a problem for a referee. I showed that wasn’t true,” he said. “Plus, I save on hair products.”
Since making it to the Italian big leagues in 1991, he has used his silver whistle to humble the world’s highest-paid players and then whittled away countless hours in locker rooms waiting for angry fans to go home. He has forced fascist hooligans to take down racist banners, and dodged water bottles, flares, smoke and concussion bombs launched from the stands onto the Italian fields.
It is clear that sitting around the house and waiting for his future to be decided does not suit Mr. Collina well.
“If you are used to taking decisions, it’s not easy to let someone else take them for you. You don’t have the last word,” he said. Later, after his wife rebuked him for coming home late to lunch, he added, “At home, the only one who accepts my decisions is the dog.” (END)
