The Referee's Call

In the eighty-ninth minute, Clemens is standing exactly where a referee should be, near the edge of the penalty area. Then the defender's boot catches the striker's ankle. The striker falls. The sound of the contact is small, but it carries.

Pada menit kedelapan puluh sembilan, Clemens berdiri persis di tempat seorang wasit seharusnya berada, dekat tepi kotak penalti. Lalu sepatu bek itu mengait pergelangan kaki sang penyerang. Penyerang itu jatuh. Bunyi benturannya kecil, tetapi terdengar jelas.

The score is one-all. The home supporters, gathered along the fence with flasks of tea, go quiet for half a second and then explode into shouting. The home team is coached by Clemens's uncle.

Skornya satu sama. Para pendukung tuan rumah, yang berkumpul di sepanjang pagar dengan termos teh, terdiam setengah detik lalu meledak dalam teriakan. Tim tuan rumah dilatih oleh paman Clemens.

Clemens is sixteen. He has been refereeing under-fifteen games for a year, mostly on Saturday mornings, for a small fee and a free sandwich. His whistle hangs from a red lanyard. It was a birthday present, and his uncle gave it to him.

Clemens berusia enam belas tahun. Sudah setahun ia memimpin pertandingan usia di bawah lima belas tahun, kebanyakan pada Sabtu pagi, dengan bayaran kecil dan sepotong roti isi gratis. Peluitnya tergantung pada tali merah. Peluit itu hadiah ulang tahun, dan pamannya yang memberikannya.

He learned the rules in his uncle's garden, using two jackets as goalposts. "Whatever the rule book says," his uncle told him once, "the game only works if someone is willing to be disliked." Clemens had thought it was a joke.

Ia belajar aturan permainan di kebun pamannya, memakai dua jaket sebagai tiang gawang. "Apa pun kata buku aturan," kata pamannya suatu kali, "permainan hanya berjalan kalau ada yang bersedia tidak disukai." Clemens mengira itu lelucon.

Now the striker looks up at him from the grass. Clemens replays the moment in his head. The defender never touched the ball. If it had been a closer call, he could have waved play on and nobody would have blamed him. But it wasn't close.

Kini sang penyerang menatapnya dari rumput. Clemens memutar ulang momen itu di kepalanya. Bek itu tidak pernah menyentuh bola. Kalau keputusannya tipis, ia bisa saja membiarkan permainan berlanjut dan tak seorang pun menyalahkannya. Tetapi ini tidak tipis.

Along the touchline, his uncle has stopped moving. He doesn't shout. He just stands with his hands on his hips, looking at Clemens the way he looks at a puzzle he already knows the answer to.

Di sepanjang garis tepi, pamannya berhenti bergerak. Ia tidak berteriak. Ia hanya berdiri dengan tangan di pinggang, memandang Clemens seperti memandang teka-teki yang sudah ia tahu jawabannya.

Clemens blows the whistle and points to the spot. The noise is immediate. A parent calls him a disgrace. One of the players says that he must be joking.

Clemens meniup peluit dan menunjuk titik penalti. Kebisingan langsung pecah. Seorang orang tua menyebutnya memalukan. Salah satu pemain berkata ia pasti bercanda.

"It was a foul," Clemens says, quietly, to nobody in particular. His voice shakes, although his arm does not.

"Itu pelanggaran," kata Clemens, pelan, kepada tak seorang pun secara khusus. Suaranya bergetar, meski lengannya tidak.

The penalty is taken in a silence so complete that he can hear the net move. The ball goes in. Two minutes later the final whistle blows, and Clemens shakes hands with both captains and collects his sandwich.

Penalti itu ditendang dalam keheningan yang begitu penuh sampai ia bisa mendengar jaring bergerak. Bola masuk. Dua menit kemudian peluit panjang berbunyi, dan Clemens berjabat tangan dengan kedua kapten lalu mengambil roti isinya.

He thinks about cycling past his uncle's house on the way home, and then thinks better of it. On Saturdays the whole family eats at his grandmother's table, and excuses are not accepted.

Ia berpikir untuk bersepeda melewati rumah pamannya dalam perjalanan pulang, lalu berpikir lagi dan mengurungkannya. Setiap Sabtu seluruh keluarga makan di meja nenek mereka, dan alasan tidak diterima.

The soup is served. Nobody mentions the match. His cousin stares into her bowl as if there might be a message at the bottom of it. His uncle eats slowly, wipes his mouth and puts down his spoon.

Sup dihidangkan. Tak seorang pun menyinggung pertandingan. Sepupu perempuannya menatap mangkuknya seolah ada pesan di dasarnya. Pamannya makan perlahan, mengelap mulut, dan meletakkan sendoknya.

"You were in the right place," he says at last. "Better placed than I would have been."

"Kamu berada di tempat yang tepat," katanya akhirnya. "Posisimu lebih baik daripada yang akan kudapatkan."

Clemens nods. He doesn't trust himself to say anything.

Clemens mengangguk. Ia tidak percaya pada dirinya untuk mengatakan apa pun.

His uncle pushes the dish of potatoes across the table. "Eat, referee," he says. "You look like you've been running all day."

Pamannya mendorong sepiring kentang menyeberangi meja. "Makanlah, Pak Wasit," katanya. "Kamu kelihatan seperti habis berlari seharian."