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I ventured to the basement, wiped the balance I had shunned for many years and glanced at the display: 99.2kg. During the last eight years, I had shed nearly 10kg. I had evolved from being a umpire who was bulky and untrained to being slender and conditioned. It had demanded dedication, full of determination, tough decisions and focus. But it was also the start of a change that progressively brought pressure, pressure and disquiet around the tests that the leadership had introduced.

You didn't just need to be a skilled official, it was also about emphasizing eating habits, appearing as a premier umpire, that the weight and body fat were correct, otherwise you faced being penalized, being allocated fewer games and landing in the wilderness.

When the regulatory group was overhauled during the mid-2010 period, the head official introduced a set of modifications. During the opening phase, there was an strong concentration on physique, weigh-ins and adipose tissue, and compulsory eyesight exams. Eyesight examinations might seem like a given practice, but it had not been before. At the courses they not only tested basic things like being able to read small text at a specific range, but also specialized examinations adapted for professional football referees.

Some referees were identified as color deficient. Another was revealed as lacking vision in one eye and was forced to quit. At least that's what the whispers said, but no one knew for sure – because about the outcomes of the optical assessment, details were withheld in big gatherings. For me, the optical check was a reassurance. It indicated competence, thoroughness and a aim to enhance.

When it came to weighing assessments and adipose measurement, however, I primarily experienced disgust, frustration and embarrassment. It wasn't the assessments that were the difficulty, but the way they were conducted.

The opening instance I was forced to endure the degrading process was in the autumn of 2010 at our regular session. We were in the Slovenian capital. On the first morning, the umpires were separated into three units of about 15. When my unit had stepped into the large, cold conference room where we were to assemble, the management instructed us to remove our clothes to our underwear. We looked at each other, but everyone remained silent or attempted to object.

We carefully shed our attire. The previous night, we had obtained clear instructions not to consume food or beverages in the morning but to be as depleted as we could when we were to participate in the examination. It was about showing minimal weight as possible, and having as low a fat percentage as possible. And to appear as a official should according to the model.

There we remained in a extended line, in just our underclothes. We were the elite arbiters of European football, professional competitors, inspirations, adults, family providers, confident individuals with great integrity … but everyone remained mute. We barely looked at each other, our eyes darted a bit apprehensively while we were invited two by two. There Collina observed us from top to bottom with an ice-cold stare. Quiet and observant. We mounted the scale one by one. I sucked in my belly, stood erect and stopped inhaling as if it would make any difference. One of the trainers audibly declared: "Eriksson from Sweden, 96.2kg." I sensed how the boss hesitated, observed me and scanned my partially unclothed body. I reflected that this lacks respect. I'm an mature individual and compelled to be here and be inspected and judged.

I stepped off the scale and it appeared as if I was disoriented. The same instructor approached with a sort of clamp, a device similar to a truth machine that he began to pinch me with on various areas of the body. The measuring tool, as the tool was called, was cool and I jumped a little every time it pressed against me.

The instructor compressed, tugged, applied pressure, measured, reassessed, uttered indistinct words, squeezed once more and squeezed my skin and fatty deposits. After each test site, he declared the number of millimetres he could assess.

I had no idea what the values signified, if it was favorable or unfavorable. It required about a minute. An aide entered the figures into a record, and when all four values had been determined, the file quickly calculated my overall body fat. My value was announced, for all to hear: "The official, 18.7 percent."

What prevented me from, or somebody else, say anything?

Why didn't we get to our feet and say what each person felt: that it was humiliating. If I had raised my voice I would have at the same time executed my career's death sentence. If I had doubted or resisted the methods that Collina had introduced then I would not have received any games, I'm sure about that.

Of course, I also wanted to become more athletic, weigh less and reach my goal, to become a elite arbiter. It was evident you shouldn't be above the ideal weight, just as clear you must be fit – and certainly, maybe the whole officiating group needed a standardization. But it was wrong to try to achieve that through a degrading weight check and an plan where the key objective was to shed pounds and reduce your adipose level.

Our two annual courses subsequently maintained the same structure. Weight check, measurement of fat percentage, fitness exams, rule tests, reviews of interpretations, group work and then at the end all would be recapped. On a file, we all got facts about our physical profile – indicators showing if we were going in the correct path (down) or incorrect path (up).

Fat percentages were classified into five groups. An satisfactory reading was if you {belong