He walked out, they clapped. Some stood and applauded. He walked back in 40-odd minutes later, they stood again. This time for a cacophony of boos. Ah, refereeing. Matt Cecchin will never forget his 300th NRL match. Few have been as wild. Maybe fewer controversial. Top of his game: Matt Cecchin prepares to referee his 300th NRL match. Credit:NRL Photos His son, who he fathered when he was just 19, and grandson stood at the top of the tunnel to celebrate his milestone, just the seventh whistleblower to achieve the mark. His partner Brent was there too.<doc-sep>At the peak of David Beckham mania in the 2002 Fifa World Cup, when sales of “Becks’ haircuts” were at an all-time high, ten-year-old Tom Sylvester decided to buck the trend. Instead of going with a hairdo The Guardian described as “tough, mini-mohawk” or “Travis Bickle from Taxi Driver meets Mr T ,” young Sylvester went with the haircut of England manager Sven-Goran Eriksson: semi-circular bald patch, middle of his head. It’s unknown if Sylvester ever thought of becoming a rugby league referee. But a similar other-minded, outlier nature would be advantageous in taking up a role so thankless and poisonous that the NRL’s best referee has decided to give it away. And while it’s rare and unfortunate that a referee would be the focus of a game, Cecchin’s decision to quit could be rugby league’s line in the sand when it comes to the plight of referees. Are we at the time rugby league decides enough is enough? With Cecchin’s raw admission on Friday that he received death threats following the Tonga-England World Cup semi-final, one can only hope this becomes a turning point in what constitutes acceptable behaviour towards referees. Cecchin officiated his 300th first grade NRL game in Penrith on Sunday with typical aplomb. Round 21, Panthers-Raiders, with Canberra’s season toast and the home side (probably) limping into the finals wasn’t likely to evoke high passion and dudgeon. But both sides threw it around, chanced arms. It had the potential to be messy, ambiguous. In parts it was. But Cecchin made his calls, and that was it. In the opening minutes he made a strong call on a strip by Nick Cotric. Then Joey Leilua barged over from a tap penalty five metres out and barrelled over James Maloney who fronted him to complain. Cecchin gave him short shrift: you’ve got nothin’, son. Talk to the hand. In the twenty-second minute Maloney grubbered. The winger regained, and was thrown into touch but launched a behind-the-back flick pass inside that was gathered by a team-mate who planted the ball. Cecchin found a knock-on. It probably was not, but he ruled it thus. The commentators were near-silent. The people looked at the replay and booed, but it was as if they weren’t really into it. Jimmy Maloney threw a hand at the big screen. There weren’t multiple replays. The game moved on, we all moved on. Australian rules’ officiating does receive scrutiny, of course. Yet on the field, in the course of the play, the play moves on. An umpire could call a push-in-the-back when a play was “clearly” holding the ball, and fans will vent and launch invective across the boundary line that, out of context could count as slander and defamation, even hate. But Australian rules’ advantage is that the action moves on. The free kick is issued and the ball is booted 50 metres up field. Out on the great wilderness that is the Australian rules field, attention follows the Sherrin. Rugby league is largely like that. Except the game stops after a penalty, even more after a try. When it’s followed by dozens of replays, each calling into question the penalty or try, the referees are in stark relief. That’s not how you want referees. At half-time Cecchin was booed off, as referees often are. But the fans’ hearts didn’t seem to be in it. And anyway, Cecchin is not brushing the NRL because of being booed at half-time. Top-level referees have more bark than that. You don’t become the game’s best referee if you let booing affect your psyche. If you’ve got it right or mostly right, being booed by home fans is almost a badge of honour. When Cecchin talks of “noise”, it’s more that as the game’s widely-acknowledged best referee, he isn’t feeling the love. He officiated three Origins, the grand final and a semi-final of the World Cup. There followed death threats so serious New Zealand Police and the Australian Federal Police gave him protection. Since then, others have been preferred for prime-time gigs, while Cecchin sees a therapist twice a day. Rugby league – as other sport – is often in “crisis”. The world is falling in because the latest thing has happened. League fans’ “passion” often spills into illogical rant. NRL CEO Todd Greenberg this week called it “immaturity”, which is certainly one way to describe it. If there is a legitimate crisis it’s in the impact this current state of affairs has on the future of refereeing. Any young, potential whistle-blower watching events would ask: do I really want to do this? Ask yourself if you’d do it: what’s in it for a referee? Fame? The best referees are anonymous. Well-known referees know only infamy. Money? Hedge fund managers aren’t quitting en masse to be referees. The main reason referees do what they do is for love – because they love the game, and love the job. There’s a buzz in it, being part of the game. But the best referee there is has had enough. Can love find a way? Perhaps, but it can only go so far. Such negativity can’t enamour anyone to the job. There’s only so many kids willing to shave a monk patch onto their heads.<doc-sep>“It’s not just journos, but social media,” he said. “When I was first in first grade, I had one or two stories written about me a year. Now, there’s hundreds of comments after a game. Younger blokes coming through are exposed to far more than I ever was.” Every sport around the world gangs up on its match-day officials. I once went to football match in Buenos Aires. "We hate the referee because he chooses to be a referee," said the tour guide. But this is rugby league, largely played down the east coast of Australia. It is not South American football. When the game's best referee walks away, it's time for some perspective. The rugby league media has become referee-obsessed with some using their performance as a means to push other agendas. Cecchin, in many respects, has been supported so others can take aim at NRL chief executive Todd Greenberg and chairman Peter Beattie over other matters. Greenberg was right last year when he said coaches needed “to grow up” instead of constantly using post-match media conferences to bash referees to cover up for their side's own deficiencies. The response of Cronulla coach Shane Flanagan to Cecchin’s retirement announcement was that he might stop going to media conferences because he can’t control his own emotions. That alone sums up rugby league’s immaturity as a professional sport. Flanagan should take a leaf out of the book of Storm coach Craig Bellamy, who regularly deflects any questions about contentious decisions, refusing to use them as an excuse for his side's loss. It's one of the reasons why Bellamy is the best in the business. Greenberg was on the front foot on Friday, saying that he would consider Cecchin’s plea for the referees squad to have a full-time sports psychologist. The squad was recently visited by referees from the English Premier League, which provides two full-time sports psychologists to its whistleblowers. Yet the NRL must also accept much of the blame for the flak referees receive. Interpretations of the tackle, ruck speed, obstruction, the shoulder charge, dissent and other areas have become so inconsistent in recent years that it’s left many of us frustrated and disillusioned. The game was a mess when Greenberg was head of football and it hasn't greatly improved since he moved into the big chair. Perhaps, though, there simply needs to be an understanding from all concerned that referees evolve, just like players and coaches. “Ask Steve Menzies and Bryan Fletcher what I was like the first time around,” Cecchin said in our interview. “I was a very accurate referee, but very in-your-face referee. Never any mistakes, but a lot of sin bins and fights, and it wasn't until [former refs boss] Robert Finch told me in 2003 that I would never referee again, here’s a [linesman’s] flag, that I learnt what worked and what didn’t. "I didn’t have the maturity and the appreciation with how to deal with athletes in a high-pressure situation. Next time around, I wasn’t as accurate, but I had far less dramas. It’s like young blokes now, it takes time to work out what works and what doesn’t. Those young guys need to be better equipped with all the ref bashing. Because it’s now at a level that’s extraordinary.” That's the lesson for all of us, not least the trigger-happy supporter firing off repulsive missives via social media. So I’m never bagging a referee again?<doc-sep>Matt Cecchin (left) will become just the seventh official to take charge of 300 NRL games this weekend Long-serving Australian rugby league referee Matt Cecchin says he is quitting at the end of the season after receiving "vile" abuse and "hundreds and hundreds" of death threats. The 44-year-old will take charge of his 300th NRL game on Sunday when Penrith Panthers play Canberra Raiders. But Cecchin is unlikely to officiate at many more games - though he has not ruled out moving to Super League. "I'm done," he told the Sydney Morning Herald. external-link Much of the abuse came after he - correctly - disallowed a late Tongan try in their 20-18 World Cup semi-final loss to England last year. Cecchin says he was placed under police protection following that decision. Officers told him: "We've picked up hundreds and hundreds of messages and they are death threats." "My son got hit, my partner got hit and my mum got hit with death threats," Cecchin said. "I started thumbing through my phone and there were more than a thousand messages. They were vile. I've never had that before in my whole career. When I got home to Sydney, our house was put on alert. "I was picked up from the airport by the police. It was really, really serious. I don't like attention as a referee. I want to do my job without any fuss and then leave. The reality is that after that game, and for the first chunk of this year with all the noise that's been out there, it's been tough. Really, really tough. "Imagine if I got the call wrong? ". Sunday's game will see Cecchin become only the seventh official in NRL history to reach the 300-game landmark. Canberra coach Ricky Stuart was critical of the "weak individuals" he blamed for driving Cecchin out of the game. "It's sad to see because I believe 'Cecc' is one of the top referees in the competition and to lose him, we're losing a lot of experience and ability and it's sad for the game because we can't afford that," he said. "People out there have to sit down and really think about what he's saying."<doc-sep>
Peter Sterling says Matt Cecchin's decision to quit the NRL is a huge blow for the code, given he's one referee who has a "feel for the game". Cecchin, who referees his 300th game in Penrith's clash with Canberra at Panthers Stadium on Sunday, said this week he will quit the NRL at the end of the season. Revealing that he received death threats following England-Tonga World Cup semi-final late last year, Cecchin confirmed he came to his decision following game one of this year's State of Origin series. Intense pressure on referees from media figures and coaches this season was the final straw for Cecchin, who may consider a move to the English Super League. MORE: Roger Tuivasa-Sheck pulls off try-saving tackle for the ages | Paul Vaughan gets caught in tackle, suffers nasty injury Sterling says Cecchin is a referee the game can't do without because he realises what the on-field product should look like. “We can’t afford to lose a Matt Cecchin because I think he does have that feel of a game, and the feel of the game to me is understanding the game, knowing the time requirements for each part of it," Sterling told Triple M. “That, to me is our big problem, is that we’ve lost the feel and the understanding of what our game, the individual moments in our game should look like. “And the good referees, they see that, they know that, and that’s the way the best referees referee on the back of. “But we want to keep trying to change and get consistency across the whole (80 minutes). “It’s been detrimental to our product in my opinion.” Sterling says there are too many outside voices talking to the referees during a game, and that the officiating should be left to them alone. “I think it just comes down to trust," he added. “You prepare these whistle blowers as well as you can, and then when gameday comes around and they run across that white line, you just trust them. “They don’t need to be told stuff during the course of games. “And they don’t need instructions as to necessarily what to keep an eye out for. “They know that, they know the rules, and I think they know how to adjudicate the rules. “But I don’t know if they’re being given that opportunity just to look at the game as to what it’s always been, and to referee it the way that it should have always been.” The four-time premiership winner with Parramatta says there's too much use of technology in the NRL at the moment. “Now, technology has changed that to some degree, but the technology can still help us," he said. “But I’m not quite sure whether we’ve got the balance right there."