Amanda Wright Soccer
Argentina has a new, and most unusual, football hero, a man who is challenging the very essence of their approach to the game and to society. Taut, chiselled, and emotionless, the stone face of Javier Castrilli could hardly be more at odds with the fading symbol of the nation’s footballing aspirations, that of the tortured genius, Maradona.
Castrilli, it should be pointed out, is a referee. But, as Maradona was more than a footballer, Castrilli is more than a referee. Wherever he goes, he is applauded and, within the game, he has created an unprecedented storm about how Argentines should play football.
Castrilli is a disciplinarian in a society where there is little respect for rules, where vested interests conspire to keep laws open to interpretation. In football- obsessed Argentina, Castrilli’s way has become a judicial and ethical reference point at a time when Argentines most painfully feel its absence.
He first came to notice in 1991 when he sent off six River Plate players in a match against Newell’s Old Boys which ruined River’s push for the championship.
Oscar Acosta, who played in that infamous game, recalls: “I think I called him a chicken for not charging a foul against me. And he just gave me the red card. When my teammates started protesting he sent them off too. We just couldn’t believe it. No referee had ever been that rigorous. We thought because he was new he had got overwhelmed by the situation but, in retrospect, it was the start of a whole new ball-game for us.”
But Juan Bava, a member of the Argentine Football Association’s (AFA) board of referees, says: “Argentine footballers are especially frisky. You cannot apply the rules down to the last letter here because it irritates players.” Castrilli says it is a sociological problem, however: “People here don’t have a clear idea of what is and isn’t allowed.
“They are always trying to get an advantage by breaking the rules. And, because nobody draws limits, they don’t even pretend to hide it. Then our players go abroad and get punished for what would be acceptable here and people get all confused.”
Indeed. When Maradona got away with his “Hand of God” goal against England in the quarter-finals of the World Cup in Mexico in 1986, it was a moment of great vindication for Argentines, the proof of his divine immunity. But, when he was banned after failing a drugs test in the last World Cup, it was agreed that jealous mortals (most suspect were the CIA and the FBI) had conspired against him.
Rule “flexibility” reigns in Argentina, and commentators claim that big clubs lean on – if not pay – referees to be lenient to their key players. So noticeable was the difference it made to Boca Juniors when Castrilli refereed their matches that Boca’s president recently threatened to withdraw the club from the league if Castrilli continued as referee.
Then Castrilli broke a taboo: he sent Maradona off in his comeback. To Boca fans, it was a pathetic sight – Maradona, a king stripped of power, tugging at Castrilli’s shirt. “Are you dead? Are you dead?” he screamed into Castrilli’s stony face.
Thousands of Boca fans began to climb over the fences to exact revenge on Castrilli, only to be halted by a personal plea from Maradona. To this day Maradona has not forgiven Castrilli. “That arrogant man is the worst referee in the world and, whats more, he’s contagious.” Castrilli is unmoved. “If some players get annoyed because I don’t favour them that’s their problem.”
That is why smaller clubs ask to have Castrilli referee their games. Acosta says: “We came to realise that what Castrilli is doing is good. He is stricter but also fairer and clearer than other referees and that makes you feel secure. Now other referees are copying Castrilli, so you have to be more careful of what you do and say on the pitch.”
For the AFA, though, Castrilli remains a problem. “We don’t want trouble,” says Bava. “When people start talking about the referee that’s when things aren’t right. Things runs smoothly when the players are the centre of attention.”
Bava’s real problem is that the rebel referee has caused a schism within the AFA’s referees’ school. “Now there is no unity among referees,” he says. “They are using their own criteria and this makes them even more vulnerable to club pressures. When the clubs see instability they try to take advantage.”
The AFA, say commentators, have tried to bring the rebels into line by denying them control of important matches. What they have not been able to stop is the wave of international acclaim for their most troublesome man. Castrilli is one of the most popular choices for international games in Latin America.
Things are changing in Argentina. For a long time Castrilli’s punitive image, his intolerance and his slicked back hair reminded the older generation of past dictators and fascists. Younger people who don’t remember the dictatorship which ended in 1983 see in his incorruptibility an answer to the lies, corruption, and Mafia violence which flourish in society and government.
“Castrilli is on a mission of justice and the press love it,” says Bava, “but that’s not his place. Football is a game, it’s not the world.” Castrilli counters: “If I allow some players to gain benefits over others by letting them bend the rules, how are kids watching to learn between right and wrong? If we want to make democracy less tenuous in Argentina people have to understand that you have to respect the rules.”