Pep Guardiola screamed into a void

Pep Guardiola’s tantrum against Liverpool showed that no one is more powerful than a bad referee.

Liverpool’s 3-1 victory over Manchester City was as dramatic and intense as expected on the field, but some of its best moments happened out of play.

Early in the game, Trent Alexander-Arnold handled the ball in the box, but referee Michael Oliver decided not to award City a penalty. VAR checked the handball decision and stood with the referee, and Liverpool scored the opening goal soon after. Then, with City chasing the game in the dying minutes, Alexander-Arnold had another handball in the box. Oliver decided not to grant that penalty either.

This second decision led to Pep Guardiola aggressively raising two fingers and screaming on the sideline about the injustice — first to the fourth official and then to the heavens, so God was sure of his grievance. It was wonderful theater that showed how the game of football reduces many of us to raging, emotional wrecks:

First, we have to say the abuse and intimidation of referees is inexcusable. Taking on the job of officiating automatically makes one a target, since the one thing on which everyone involved in football seems to agree is referees are evil. But referees are people trying to do their best, and their failings are usually evidence of institutional issues like insufficient funding and training, and a rulebook in which personal interpretation plays a big role in decisions. They’re hardly ever malicious.

Oliver didn’t call the handballs against Alexander-Arnold, but neither did the video review. That’s not to say Oliver isn’t bad at his job; he has a well-earned reputation. But soccer, by nature, relies on a number of judgment calls. It’s easy to see how people get things wrong.

Soccer is a fickle sport. Guardiola’s reaction in the face of that fact was hilarious because it displayed the powerlessness that even inflicts managers. No matter how great a manager is, all they can do is prepare the team. They can’t step out on the field and play for their players, or force officials to see what they see.

The dynamic between managers and referees is full of irony. Ordinarily, referees are at the bottom of the list of the most important parties in football. They’re the lowest class. Owners, executives, managers, players, agents, and even fans are celebrated more than referees ever will be. At their best, referees are necessary evils. They’re tolerated. The best they can hope to be is good enough that no one yells at them.

The manager is on the opposite end of that spectrum. A great manager, like Guardiola or Jurgen Klopp, is a celebrity. They’re hailed as gods and adored by millions because of the power they have in leading teams to victories and trophies. Managers are football’s living, breathing myths of the individual genius.

Once a match starts, however, the referees have more direct influence over the outcome than everyone but the players. The manager, and the fortune of both teams, is suddenly put at the mercy of the unlovables. Referees determine what’s allowable on the field by what fouls are called. They’re the ones who can send off a player or call a penalty. They can shift the nature of games and, by extension, title chances.

Of course, the referee isn’t supposed to abuse that authority. They’re supposed to be fair and faithful to the laws of the game. Most of them are, out of fear of being demoted or losing their jobs. But where a good referee’s job is to suppress the power of their position, so they’re nothing more than a conduit of the game’s laws, a bad one makes it clear how much influence they really have. They make everyone, from owners and managers, to players and fans, feel small in comparison.

There’s a scene in the second season of Game of Thrones that showcases the true nature of power. Petyr Baelish, in his very sly and manipulative way, threatens to reveal Cersei Lannister’s intimate relationship with her brother as a way to get her under his control. He says to her that, “Knowledge is power.” She pauses for a second, and then orders her guards to seize him. Then she asks them to kill him, before changing her mind and telling them to step away. Then she says to him, “Power is power.”

Guardiola’s rage is underlined by the fact he has little to no power to help his team win when a call goes against him. His grand knowledge of tactics means nothing. Power is power, it’s effective, and the person who had it was Oliver. All Guardiola could do was stomp in anger, making it known he had been wronged. And even in that anger he had to be careful not to offend the referee, who could have sent him off.

That’s perhaps why he turned to the heavens, to see if he could make a higher deity aware of what he and his team have suffered. As if God, as the ultimate judge, was to come down and overrule Oliver’s decisions.

Guardiola’s anger might seem petulant considering his stature in the game, but it came from the same frustration that everyone, from fans to owners, feels when watching their favorite team lose. Everything’s going wrong and you can’t do anything about it, and the fact you can’t do anything makes it even more maddening. Some boo, some cry, and others rage.

Being a spectator means being unable to change the situation that’s ruining you. And nothing brings out that feeling of frustration quite like a critical refereeing decision. Sometimes all you can really do with that feeling of powerlessness is make a fool of yourself and ask the world to bear witness to the injustice.