Jack Anderson: Before backing VAR, subject it to the Seamus Darby test

Watching GAA games, even at the elite level, it is always striking how alone referees are, and how many tasks they have, and all, largely, without technological assistance.

EXTRA HELP: Sean Stack did a great job last Saturday in the Cork-Limerick game, but elite referees recently asked the GAA authorities for more assistance to perform their duties. Pic: Daire Brennan/Sportsfile

The Canadian Chekov, Alice Munro, died this week. A brilliant short story writer, she was not a sports fan, but an enduring theme of her work was a sense of place. Engrossed in watching last weekend’s Munster hurling championship game between Limerick and Cork - the players’ efforts, the outburst of joy from the Rebels – it reminded me that the GAA is also ultimately about place. As Munro once said, “In your life there are a few places, or maybe only the one place, where something happened, and then there are all the other places.” 

For those of us in Oz, the game occurred early on Sunday morning. Sunday in Melbourne is the busiest day of the week for those of us with sporty kids. In Australia, you name it, there is a sport for everyone. Our kids play basketball, netball, hockey, and cricket. As my GAA-loving family from Limerick say (half-jokingly), “was it for this the wild geese spread?” What you notice taking the kids to events is not just the facilities that Australians have but how organised they are in administering youth sport.

Although my teenage kids do not play at a high level, most venues have a digital scoreboard and clock or timer system. Parents from each side are given the task of scoring and timing. If there is a dispute, it is up to them to work it out. Anyone visiting from Ireland immediately says, “that would never work at home”. But isn’t there a level of immaturity in that; that we take community sport so seriously as not to be able to agree on the score?

Apart from the surprising level of facilities and technology available to youth sport, the other noteworthy practice in Australia is the use of similarly aged referees. The idea of young referees is twofold: first, to create a pathway for the referees of tomorrow; and second, that vocal parents (you know the type) might think twice about verbally abusing a fledgling referee.

The former works well; the latter, not so much. One of my kids referees local footy games from under 16 level downwards. He gets a lot of unsolicited feedback. Probably the most dispiriting sight in sport is not the parents snarling about a poor decision in a Division 5C footy game but the parents nearby not intervening.

As my kid said after one tempestuous game, there is no need for Australia ever to bring in compulsory military service, just get everyone to umpire junior footy for a year.

There are however a few things that impress me when watching him referee. First is that even at local level, the game has two referees. Both sides must supply goal umpires whose task is to keep the score. Both sides must run the scoreboard and clock. In essence, even at youth footy games all the referees really have to do is referee the game as they see it. Coaches are not allowed to speak directly to them, but each team is permitted a runner to get messages on the pitch.

Watching GAA games, even at the elite level, it is always striking how alone they are, and how many tasks they have, and all, largely, without technological assistance.

Recently, elite GAA referees asked for more support. When we think of such support, we now automatically think of it in terms of technological assistance.

There is no doubt that when technology is used efficiently and decisively in field sports, it assists greatly. A good example was seen in the recent Old Firm game when the referee Willie Collum (the epitome of a Scotsman with a grievance) used it to send off Rangers’ John Lundstram and review a penalty he had given to Celtic. Collom’s principle was that that unless VAR showed compelling evidence otherwise, his on-field decision would stand.

Poor use of technology and the game is disrupted. In rugby union, assistant referees now never seem to award a try in the corner. They have lost all agency to the technology. In rugby, you often see the referees gravely line up to await instruction from the TMO as if they are petty officers in the trenches awaiting a telegram on when to go over the top.

Technology can, if used correctly, add to the drama. In GAA giving managers a call on when to activate a video review would be a case in point.

Whether for good or bad, technology does rob the game of some of its spontaneity.

The use of VAR-like technology in the GAA should be subject to the Seamus Darby test. Darby’s goal in 1982 is one of the great GAA moments, accompanied by Micháel O’Hehir’s evocative commentary. Imagine if VAR was available: “A high lopping, dropping ball…a goal, a goal, a goal for Offaly, there was a goal in the game…no, wait, they’re checking for a push in the back.” 

Instead of supporting referees with more technological assistance, maybe the better option would be to first take away some their responsibilities – scoring and timing, for example. These tasks could be given to the fourth official whose main job currently seems to be to wear a blue UN helmet and patrol the sideline.

GAA management teams seem genuinely frustrated at not being able to get messages onto the pitch. Even the Valeriy Lobanovskyi of hurling (Paul Kinnerk) got a yellow last weekend. The GAA should re-introduce the runner, so that everyone can sit down with their whiteboards.

If technology is to be used, then adopt Willie Collum’s approach, that is, to quote another Scot with a grievance (Macbeth) – if it were done when ‘tis done, then ‘twere well it were done quickly.

Limerick versus Cork was one of those increasingly rare experiences - something that stilled your attention. Referees should be given the same ability to concentrate on the game.

Sean Stack did a great job last Saturday but as every referee knows: when you get it right, no one remembers; when wrong, no one forgets.