Euro 2012: Why are we being kept in the dark about the true purpose of these bungling goal-line officials? "It was," admitted Pierluigi Collina, the former referee now Uefa's head of whistling and carding, "a mistake, human error." Through that human error, Ukraine were denied what might have been rightfully theirs. This after investing £11.5 billion in the tournament. Of course, the hosts needed more than that one goal. To progress they required a win. But the argument being forcibly proposed yesterday was that they were robbed of momentum by the mistaken refusal to acknowledge an equaliser. But what would help in instances like last night, or indeed Bloemfontein at the 2010 World Cup when, under Blatter's watch, Frank Lampard's shot was so far over the line it was on its way to Zimbabwe, is not so much the blinking eye of a goalline machine as a properly functioning pair of human retinas. Anyone could see that it was a goal. Except, apparently, the man positioned there to pass judgment. In his inertia, he gave pointed public exposure to a question that must have occurred to anyone watching this splendid tournament unfold: what exactly is the point of those blokes standing behind the goal? You see them prancing around brandishing their batons, doing nothing for 99 per cent of the time. And in the one per cent of the game when their judgment might help, they appear not to wish to get involved. They look as much use as a chocolate fireguard, their presence apparently entirely symbolic, as central to the decision-making process as those chaps in funny garters hanging around in the background at the state opening of parliament are to the running of the country. Collina, however, would have none of it. Yesterday in Warsaw he gave a stout defence of the role of the additional assistant, an experiment he has been overseeing for the past three seasons in Europa and Champions League fixtures. He believes an extra pair of eyes trained on the penalty area is of far more use than a goal-line camera. It has led to marked improvement in player behaviour, he claimed. Terry, for instance, has not always benefited from the additional assistant's presence. It was the man behind the goal who alerted - via his radio mic - the referee to Terry's sly knees-up with Barcelona's Alexis Sánchez in the Champions League semi-final. "Particularly on set pieces, fouls have decreased a lot," Collina insisted. Here we have had no red cards for violent conduct, as opposed to two by now in 2008. They contribute much, helping the referee. But not on Tuesday night. "I don't know if one wrong decision can undermine an experiment," added Collina. It is not up to me. Don't forget the majority is still positive. Three goal-line decisions so far in this tournament, two have been right. But it is the one that wasn't which will linger in the memory. You imagine Collina must have been furious, his eyes goggling out of his head, as he watched the idea he believes might negate the need for goal-line technology being horribly exposed. His revenge was swift: Kassai and his team of assistants are not going to be maintained to supervise a quarter final as a result, punished for their collective myopia. Yet surely Collina could do more to demonstrate the value of his cherished experiment. If they are proving so vital, so assiduous in policing the push-me-pull-you of set pieces, would it not help if we knew what the additional assistants were doing? We are aware when a linesman contributes because he waves his flag. The additional assistants do nothing more than whisper into their chinstrap microphones, their conversation furtive. For fans and those reporting on the game, their contribution remains a mystery. We have no idea what they are up to so assume they are simply ornamental. "One of the rules set by International Football Association Board is that they cannot make any gesture," said Collina, waving his hands about in frustration. I'm Italian, I move when I talk. To make a gesture is natural, but they cannot. The International Football Association Board has said they cannot. Personally, I wish they could. What is the purpose of these guys? Well, according to the best referee there has ever been, they have one. But we the fans are the last to be allowed to discover what it is. In football, that is nothing new. Let's hope Premier League managers don't follow Blokhin example Let us hope Oleg Blokhin has not started a precedent. The Ukraine coach, fuming after his side had been eliminated by England, looked keen to vent his frustrations on a journalist at the post-match press conference, offering to take the unfortunate scribe "outside" for what was translated as "a man conversation." Wisely, the journalist declined the invitation. Because Blokhin has the look of a man determined that any such discourse should end unhappily. And were managers in England to follow his lead, there are several here who would similarly terrify the press corps. An alternative Premier League table, reflecting which of the managers journalists would be least prepared to conduct "man conversations" with would see Roberto Martínez and Brendan Rodgers down in the relegation positions. Too personable and, frankly, too short to worry about, they would be joined by Roberto Mancini, who would never engage in such discourse for fear of what it might do to his hair. In mid-table - more for reasons of age than past pedigree - would be Arsène Wenger and Alex Ferguson. But up in the Champions League slots would be a quartet of coaches who could clear a press room at the first hint of physical confrontation: Mark Hughes, Paul Lambert, Tony Pulis and David Moyes. As Blohkin demonstrated: it is the intense ones you have to worry about.