Former Judge Eriksson on UEFA Diet Under Collina
18 hours ago7 min read1 comments

The culture of elite football officiating has always been a world of intense pressure and meticulous preparation, but a recent revelation from former top referee Jonas Eriksson, detailed in his book 'House of Cards', peels back the curtain on a particularly dystopian chapter under the reign of UEFA's head of refereeing, Pierluigi Collina. Eriksson recounts a scene that sounds more akin to a military inspection than a professional seminar for Europe's best arbiters, describing how they were forced to stand in their underwear while Collina subjected them to an 'icy gaze,' a moment he labels as universally humiliating yet met with silent compliance.This was merely the preamble to a broader, more psychologically penetrating campaign focused on diet and physical conditioning, where Collina, the iconic official himself, delivered lectures that singled out colleagues for their lack of professional readiness, reducing seasoned, world-class referees to a pack of 'frightened schoolboys' before a stern headmaster. The anecdote that later became a source of clandestine laughter among Eriksson and his peers—a story of a fellow judge indulging in oysters and carbonara—highlighted the surreal nature of their new reality, where the highest echelons of their governing body had effectively deployed watchers to monitor every morsel they consumed.While the subject of permissible food became a running joke, it fostered an undercurrent of genuine anxiety and surveillance, a constant mental calculation played out across Europe as officials pondered their restaurant choices, instinctively vetoing the once-enjoyed oysters and pasta in favor of safer, blander options. Sweets vanished from the collective menu, desserts were replaced solely by fruit, and even when a stray pastry appeared, the psychological barrier was so absolute that almost no referee dared to claim it, a testament to the powerful behavioral conditioning at play.This dietary puritanism extended to alcohol, systematically phased out during tournaments and training camps, while a perverse hysteria over body metrics took root, transforming camaraderie into a unhealthy competition over who had the lowest body fat percentage or had shed the most weight since the last weigh-in. Eriksson rightly points out the profound misalignment of priorities this fostered; instead of receiving accolades for critical in-game decisions or masterful handling of a volatile match, referees were publicly highlighted for their shrinking waistlines, a signal that the measure of a world-class official was shifting from the acuity of their judgment on the pitch to the reading on a body fat scale.This account from Eriksson is not just a quirky behind-the-scenes story; it's a serious indictment of a managerial philosophy that risks dehumanizing professionals and potentially undermining the very performance it seeks to enhance. The intense cognitive demands of refereeing a high-stakes Champions League knockout tie or a ferocious domestic derby require mental sharpness and emotional resilience, attributes that can be severely compromised by extreme dietary restrictions and the psychological burden of constant physical scrutiny.One must question whether a referee nervously anticipating his next body composition analysis, rather than reviewing tactical fouls or positional nuance, is truly being set up for success. The legacy of this era under Collina, as portrayed by Eriksson, is a cautionary tale about the fine line between peak performance optimization and a counterproductive, controlling culture that values the appearance of discipline over the substance of professional excellence, a lesson that football's governing bodies would be wise to heed as they continue to shape the future of the game's most critical on-field officials.