All language subtitles for Traces.S01E01.WEBRip.x264-ION10

(FOOTBALL CROWD ROARS)

(FOOTSTEPS APPROACH)

- Oh, Jesus Christ!
- Sorry, Ref.

The door was open.

What can I do for you, Mitch?

Well, I'm just checking with you

if it's OK for me to be pitch-side
during the match.

You know, get the crowd going
and everything.

Not during the game, no.

- Pre-match, half-time only.
- Oh.

It's just that Rovers
have brought Scotty the Shrimp.

I thought we could get a bit of
play-fighting going, you know?

- In jest, like, have a laugh.
- No, I can't allow it. I'm sorry.

I'm not having the players distracted by

a six-foot prawn knocking
seven shades of shite out of a...

...whatever it is you are.

This is not America, Mitch.

I understand.

Hey, it's your last-ever game today,
isn't it?

It is, yes.

Well, I just want to say it's been an
absolute privilege to work with you.

Fantastic.

And may the best team win.

Indeed.

(TOILET FLUSHES)

I'd give it a minute
before you go in there.

A few, er, pre-match nerves.

Well, it's a big game, isn't it?

It is. When I worked at the San Siro,

the WC was adjacent to the showers
with a separate door,

and it had a self-lowering lavatory seat.

You felt pampered.

You're ready early. What time is it?

1.58...59.

I like to be fully uniformed
before the captains' meeting.

Gives me that extra degree of authority.

Oh, most definitely.

I've known some refs slumming round
in sweatpants with a beer in their hand

at 20 to three
like they're at a family barbecue.

No, you're one of the pros, Martin.
A role model. I've always said it.

That's why you've lasted
as long as you have.

Thank you, Brendan, I appreciate that.

- Was that Mitch I could hear just now?
- It was.

I've never seen him out of that costume.

Do you think he could be a St Bernard?

Well, I was thinking more chipmunk,
but you might be right.

They have got the shittest gym here
I have ever seen.

My ex-wife's got a better treadmill
in her utility room.

Well, admittedly
the facilities are a little tired,

but if United win promotion today,
that's all gonna change.

- That's a big if.
- At the San Siro,

they had a treadmill in the officials'
changing room, and someone came round

every 20 minutes and replenished
the towels. It's the little touches.

Where's Oggy?

Where'd you expect him to be?

Stuffing his face at the vending machine.

(SIGHS)

We only had lunch two hours ago.

I mean, the captains'll be here
any minute.

We've got to synchronise our watches,
go through the team sheet...

Shitting Nora!

Oh, sorry, Phil.

That was me. There's no Glade.

- Did a rat crawl up your arse and die?!
- Pre-match nerves.

You're the fourth official.

What have you got to be nervous about?
Holding up the wrong numbers on the board?

You may joke,
but that has happened.

Barry Crop once accidentally
signalled for 56 minutes'

added time at a Sheffield derby game.
And it was on Sky.

Took him a good few months
to live that down, I tell you.

- At the San Siro...
- All right, Brendan, give it a rest,

for fuck's sake!

Sorry.

I'll just, er, go and squirt a few drops
of Aramis in the pan.

See if it'll help, er,
dissimilate the odour.

(DOOR CLOSES)

You shouldn't speak to Brendan like that.

I heard he's being considered
for the select group next season,

so you could be working under him.

Is that how you see the assistants?
Under the referee?

- I thought we were a team.
- We are a team,

and that includes the fourth official.

If we don't respect ourselves, how are we
gonna get respect from the players?

He's so boring, though, Martin!

He is boring, yes.

And that's a very good quality
in a referee.

He's anonymously competent, and that...

- ...takes guts.
- Brendan hasn't got any guts.

He's dropped them all in there!

Right, well, I think that's, er,
taken the edge off it.

Anyway, if anyone should be nervous,
it's me.

Just seen Howard arrive
with half a dozen Qataris.

They've come to cast their eye over me
for 2022.

Oh, you don't think it's because it's one
of the biggest games in English football?

Well, yeah, there is that.

But if it goes well for me today,

I could be running the line
at a World Cup, Martin.

Imagine being able to flag Neymar offside.

We are not the story, Phil.

We are neutral officiators.
Never forget that.

Yeah, whatever. If I'm not back in
20 minutes, phone for the fire brigade.

Ugh!

He has got a lot to learn, that one.

Are those City pants, Brendan?

No!

Clean on this morning.

Oh, City. Yes, well, we're away
at Preston today.

Should be good for a point at least,
don't you think?

Consolidate a play-off place.

You know my thoughts about team colours
in the changing room.

Yes, but it's the last day of the season.
What with us being City fans...?

Take them off, please.

Of course.

Sorry, Martin.

It's been a good season for us, but,
er...

...without the investment, you know,
you can't really compete.

Still, if we win today,
we might finish third.

We've always been the bridesmaid,
never the bride.

True.

Without that cash we'll never be up there
playing with the big boys.

Oh, if I had a pound for every time
I'd heard you say that, Brendan.

You all right, boss? How are you feeling?

Hey, it's filling up out there, you know.

You can cut the atmosphere
with a cake slice.

Sorry.

- Have you warmed up, Oggy?
- Yeah.

- I did hot yoga in the bath this morning.
- I am serious.

Don't worry, boss.

I'll do me stretches.

Where's Phil, anyway?

Doesn't he normally lead
the ref-aerobics around now?

- He's shaving.
- Yeah, I bet he is.

Bloody Sky's here.

He'll be doing a back, crack and sack wax,
knowing him.

Hey, 20 quid he gels all his hair up
like Gareth Gates.

No betting, Oggy!
You've been warned before.

Only joking! Christ, Martin!

Well, it's not a joking matter, is it?

What's up with you?
This is meant to be your retirement.

Biggest game of your career.

- You should be relishing it.
- I am relishing it.

Well, tell your face. It's longer than
one of Brendan's stories.

- No offence.
- None taken.

We don't all enjoy ourselves
in the same way, Oggy.

All right.

So, goalie for United, number 1,
Charlie Evans.

That's nice and easy.

Back four - Ripley, Price, Clyne and Cox.

They're your solicitors, aren't they,
Brendan?

Er, midfield is that Polish one
whose name I can never pronounce.

- Dzierzanowska.
- That's him.

Looks like two bad hands at Scrabble.

And up front, Calvin Cooke!

I hope you've got his number, boss.

How d'you mean?

Well, he's got a temper on him.

A lot of inner demons,
from what I've heard.

Well, he'll be here in a minute,
so you can find out

for yourself, can't you?

Right, can we synchronise watches, please?

Oh, we don't have to do that.

It's not Mission: Impossible.

I've got 14.02 and 52 seconds.

Er, six minutes past two...

And let's synchronise, please.
56 seconds, 57...

- (BEEPING)
- Hang on, hang on.

I can only put this one forwards,
it won't go back.

Oh, for God's sake!
It's three o'clock kick-off,

quarter to four for a pie and a piss,

ten to five, final score
and get first round in.

It's not rocket science.

Fuckin' lukewarm water
and the shampoo's like dog spunk.

Why hasn't this club got any money?

Hey! They're like a old bra -

no cups and crap support. I thank you!

They had Aveda products throughout
at the San Siro.

It's like a boutique hotel.

Do we know if Sky are showing this
in 4K or just in HD?

- I don't know. Can we just...
- Ah, there you go!

What did I tell you? 20 quid.

- Worried about your bald spot, Phil?
- Fuck off, Oggy!

(ANGRILY) Can we synchronise watches,
please?

Hey, I saw you on the treadmill earlier

practising your backwards running.

- Bullshit.
- It's true!

He practises running backwards
doing his Collina face so he can get

a nice big close-up on TV.

No, it's so I can get better
peripheral vision.

It's better than you chugging up and down
like Mr fuckin' Creosote.

- Oh, is that right? Mr Creosote?
- Guys, please!

If United win today, they get automatic
promotion to the Premier League.

With merit payments and TV rights,
that's a huge windfall.

- 150 million, according to the Mirror.
- Exactly.

And if Rovers win, they avoid

relegation into the lower leagues
and financial oblivion.

So it's up to us to work as a team
to ensure a fair result.

You know, it's going to be tense enough
out there

without you two glaring at each other
across the pitch

like Bette Davis and Joan Crawford.

He started it.

- (MOCKINGLY) "He started it."
- I don't care!

We have to be beyond reproach
in every decision we make.

- So show some professionalism.
- (KNOCK ON DOOR)

Ah, Calvin, come in.

Is Nico with you?

- Haven't seen him.
- Ah, Oggy, go and get Nico, will you?

Tell him he's already three minutes late
for the captains' meeting.

And you, go and do your manscaping,
or whatever it is you do, in there.

You, check the match ball.

I want it 12.5 psi.

Yes, Ref. Sorry.

What's this?

Retirement card.

What, from you or the whole team?

What do you think?

Hardly going to be walking around
with my own card for you, am I?

So, big game.

Yeah. Yeah.

How are you feeling?

I'm OK.

Can I kiss you?

What happened to your rules?

Please.

It's a big game for me as well,
you know.

So now...you've just gotta give us

- a couple of penalties, right?
- (CHUCKLES)

I'd love it if I could. But I can't.

- Not even if there's tugging in the box?
- Don't even joke about it.

- If the PGMOL ever found out...
- You're retiring!

Yeah, but it's my reputation, isn't it?

Not to mention the legal consequences.

I mean, not just for me, but for the club!

Martin, nobody's gonna find out.

Relax.

Eh? I've got your back.

I love you.

(DOOR OPENS)

Ah, Nico, nice of you to join us.

Right, now, I want a good clean game

with plenty of flow
and all the focus on the football.

Everybody on that pitch
knows the laws of the game.

And if we stick to that, there's
no reason we can't have a fitting,

dignified, trouble-free end to the season.

- Understand?
- (WHISTLE BLOWS)

(WHISTLE BLOWS)

CROWD: The referee's a wanker!
The referee's a wanker!

OGGY: Get him under control,
you flaming animal!

- Oggy!
- He chucked a bap at me!

- A what?
- A bap! A bacon bap!

Who did?
That Polish one. Dirty bastard.

- Dzierzanowska?
- Yeah, that's him.

Flaming animal! I want his name
in the book.

- If you can frigging spell it.
- You're bleeding.

Eh? No, it's just ketchup.

- Ah...
- What should I put in the report, Martin?

Just put, "Food thrown in tunnel."
We'll see what the damage is later.

At the San Siro, the ushers escorted you
all the way down the tunnel.

And we had our own espresso machine.

This was before they became commonplace.
They're more ubiquitous than kettles now.

- Where's Phil?
- Oh, he got collared by Mitch.

He was trying to show him
video replay on his phone.

- Well, he shouldn't be looking at that!
- I know,

but Phil is a pro.
I'm sure he can handle himself.

Did you notice how he went
and picked up the match ball

soon as you blew the whistle?

Then he just stood there
with his chin up

waiting for the Steadicam guy
to circle round him?

Oggy's right. That's not protocol.

- He wears eyeliner, you know.
- No, he doesn't.

Yes, he does!

Did you not see him when they had

that minute's silence
for Butch Wilkins last year?

It was running all down his face!

Linesman Minnelli, they called him.

It was a goal, wasn't it?

It was a clear goal.

There wasn't a hint of offside?
Not a chance.

I think what they were contesting
was the throw-in.

Don't look at me.
I was six foot away.

That was a throw-in all day, every day.

- Did you see it?
- No, I was on the far side.

And you're sure it was a throw-in?

May God strike me down.

It was 18 inches off the line.

- What, in or out?
- In!

- I've just seen the replay.
- Shit!

Nah, that's impossible.
I saw it cross with my own eyes.

You should have gone to Specsavers, then,
shouldn't you?

Calvin wanted to talk to you

but I told him he'd have to wait
until after the game.

Yeah, well, quite right.
It's only half-time, for goodness' sake.

Anything could happen yet!

- What did he say?
- He's fuming!

Mitch the fuckin' Meerkat keeps on showing
everyone the footage on his phone.

What do you mean, meerkat?
He's an otter!

How can he be an otter?!

Otters are mustelids with tiny ears.

All right, David fucking Attenborough!

I always thought he was a tadpole,
but it never sat right with me.

It'll blow over.

Oh, yes. I don't even think
Mitch knows what he is.

No, I mean the throw-in!

It's just one of those decisions,
isn't it?

You know, some go for you,
some go against you.

During the season,
they just even themselves out.

No, I don't... I don't think they do.

- What time was the goal?
- Er...

...27 minutes.

Which means the throw-in
was at 26 minutes, right?

Well, I don't know.
I don't time every throw-in, do I?

Well, somebody does!

Don't they, Oggy?

What are you on about?

Martin, can I have a word?

No, no, if you've got something to say,
let's say it here.

All right.

In-play betting.

Every corner, every goal,

every free kick - you can bet
on anything these days.

I know what in-play betting is!

Right, so if a betting syndicate
from the Far East, say,

could guarantee exactly what time
a throw-in would be awarded to

a certain team, well...

...a small fortune could be made.

Are you making an allegation here?

He's talking out of his arse.

It happens all the time in Italy.
In the San Siro...

Oh, will you stop going on
about the shitting San Siro!

You were a backup referee
at an under-14s friendly in 1992!

Under-17s.

- You didn't even get on the pitch!
- Envy eats nothing but its own heart.

- What?!
- How come you know so much about it?

Because I was approached
to take the same bung.

15K if I awarded Rovers a throw-in
at exactly 26 minutes.

Easy money, the guy said.

But I told him no way.

Well...that's just a coincidence.

- Big fucking coincidence.
- You see -

this is why we need VAR as standard.
Then we wouldn't be in this pickle.

Not now, Brendan.

Did you take that money, Oggy?

I need you to tell me the truth now.

Now, I can call the police in here,
we can have this game abandoned.

It was only a throw-in!

I didn't think it would matter that much
either way.

Oh, my giddy aunt,
I am not hearing this!

I didn't know they were gonna go
and score off the back of it, did I?

It was a foot and a half in!

I panicked!

They said if I didn't comply,
something bad would happen to me.

What, they'd unplug the vending machines?

Martin, please. It's your last-ever game.

I'll split the money with you.

I-I-I'll give it to charity.

Just don't dob me in it, please!

Just let me think, will you?

Why did you do it, Oggy?

We get treated like shit
week in, week out.

Spat at by so-called fans,

abused by players, managers,

then the pundits weigh in and...

...suddenly your kids
are getting bullied at school.

That's no excuse, Oggy.

(DOOR OPENS)

What the fuck is going on
with you lot today?

- Have you seen this footage?
- Calvin, you cannot be in here!

There's no way that
that's over the line. Look.

Look!

We're not permitted to see that footage
until after the game.

Are you kidding me, Martin?
Are you fucking

- kidding me?!
- Please, Calvin.

Where is he? Where is he?!

I'll rip his fucking head off!

- Mitchell, out!
- Linesman?!

Call yourself a linesman?
Have you seen that?

You could drive a fuckin' bus
through that gap!

- Martin, you have to say something!
- Come on, man!

At least send him out there to apologise.

Oh, what, so I can have food
thrown in me face again?

Oh, you'd enjoy that, wouldn't you?

You'd eat it, you fat git!

Say that again, you fucking mangy weasel!

- (ALL YELL)
- Say it to my face!

Go on, say it again!

Go on!

- (THUMP)
- (WHISTLE BLOWS)

What are you doing?

You're off! You're out of the game!

You can't do that!

You can't do that.
He can't do that, it's half-time!

Course he can. Brendan, tell him!

Law 12. The referee has the authority
to take disciplinary action

from entering the field of play
for the pre-match inspection

till leaving the field of play
at the end of the match.

This is a conspiracy!

- You should be whipped, the lot of you!
- Martin, you can't.

If I meant to show him the yellow card,
I can change my mind, can't I?

You've already booked him once, Martin.
It's a dismissal either way.

I want him red-carded - violent conduct!

Yeah? Well, it's nothing to do with you,
is it, knobhead?!

Get him out of here!

Get my head!

Martin, you can't...

Not in this match, not today. Please!

Well, I'm sorry, Calvin.
It's the Laws of the Game.

So, you know, it's a straight red.

A straight red?

Mm-hm.

Well, that's the only straight thing
about you, then, isn't it?

You've sucked my cock for the last time,
Martin, do you understand?

You're pathetic.

Don't call me again!

(DOOR SLAMS)

CROWD CHANTING: The referee's a wanker!
The referee's a wanker!

The referee's a wanker!
The referee's a wanker!

The referee's a wanker!
The referee's a wanker!

The referee's a wanker!
The referee's a wanker!

The referee's a wanker!

I'll put all that in the report, or...?

Just put Number 9, Cooke,
dismissed for violent conduct.

- Martin...
- Don't.

Just don't.

What are we going to do about...
the other thing?

Did you report that approach
to the FA, Phil?

Course not.

I was scared of ruining my chances
for the World Cup.

Right, then, in that case we just...

...make things even.

Oh, Martin, I don't think...

If the opportunity comes to give United
a goal, I'm going to take it,

be it an offside or a penalty or whatever,

and I want you lot to back me up.
Do you understand?

It's just about being fair and proper.

Sorry, but how is that fair and proper?

If he hadn't awarded that throw-in
to Rovers,

they wouldn't have scored and it would
have been nil-nil, wouldn't it?

So we're just evening things up.

Whoever wins after that,
well, good luck to them.

This is...highly irregular, Martin.

Are you're sure that...

...your judgment hasn't been
coloured by...

...you know?

By what?

Calvin.

The fact you just suc...

Sent him off.

I've done nothing wrong.

My whole career has been above board
and by the book.

Yet you're about to gift a goal to United.

My conscience is clear.

Now, if any of you want to report
what's happened and go to the FA,

then say so now

and we'll stop this game.

Hm? Well?

We'd better get back out there.

The crowd are going to give you
some stick, Martin.

Oh, that's nothing I can't handle.

Gentlemen, let's get out there

and restore some sanity.

(CROWD BOOING)

(FINAL WHISTLE BLOWS)

(CROWD YELLS)

RADIO PRESENTER: There's all sorts of
reports coming out of Wallis Park

at the moment,
where the match between United and Rovers

was abandoned 12 minutes from time.

Let's go to our reporter there,
Eamonn Travers.

Eamonn, is the picture any clearer yet?

No, John. As you say,
rumours spreading here like wildfire.

There have been allegations
of match-fixing,

collusion with the officials,
and even, shall we say,

a personal relationship
between a key player for United

and the referee Martin Rutherford.

The trouble started, well,
it started in the first half

with that controversial goal for Rovers

and the mysterious dismissal at half-time
of the United captain Calvin Cooke,

but it was compounded
by an extraordinary second half

which saw Rutherford award
a frankly ludicrous penalty to United,

which was missed,
and ordered to be retaken,

not once, not twice, but three times

until Kirby scored to level the game.

This led to a mass brawl on the pitch,
five red cards...

The press are going to have
an absolute field day with this.

Are you kidding? They already are.

Robbie Savage has just been on,
tearing us to shreds.

He even had a go at my hair,
which is the pot calling the kettle black.

How's Martin?

He's shaken but philosophical.

I think he's aware his legacy
is somewhat tarnished.

Somewhat? He's the Lance Armstrong
of football referees.

He's fucked himself.

Not...anatomically.

Or professionally,
as long as we all stick together.

He can't be blamed for them players
fighting like that.

Brendan, he gave a penalty for a handball

against the goalkeeper!

Well, he didn't know it was the keeper,
did he?

What, the one in the big bright-red shirt
with gloves on

leaping through the air like Superman?

I think even Arsene Wenger
might have spotted that one.

He was trying to even things up.

Just cancel out Oggy's mistake.

We are going to stand by him, aren't we?

Well...like I say.

He's fucked himself.

They want to speak to you next, Phil.

- Is Howard there?
- Yeah.

And the police.

It's a criminal matter now, apparently.

Christ.

Are the Qataris still here?

You mean the Arabs?
I didn't see any.

Fuck's sake!

If this costs me my World Cup spot...

I've always liked you, Phil.

You know that, don't you?

Not in a Martin and Calvin kind of way,

more like professional...

...respect.

You won't dob me in it, will you?

Please.

He's going to tell them everything,
isn't he?

Course he is.

He'll sing like a canary on The X Factor
to save his own skin.

You'd better get yourself a solicitor,
pal.

Whatever happened to, "What happens in
the refs' room stays in the refs' room"?

Nah, different game now.

You know when the rot set in?

When they started putting us
in coloured jerseys.

Ugh!

Back in the day
you were the Man in Black.

- Big characters like George Courtney.
- Keith Hackett.

Yes. Men to be feared.

Then the television money came in
and they demanded more colour.

Pinks, greens, burgundies.

We look more like Showaddywaddy
than football referees.

Sports entertainment.

No, it's all about the money now.

As you well know, Oggy.

And that 15 grand won't take you
very far through the courts.

I don't even think it was
an Eastern betting syndicate.

I think it was just one man
putting a voice on.

Now I think of it, he sounded more
like Benny Hill doing Mr Chow Mein.

All right, boss? How's your eye?
Looks painful.

Yeah, stings a bit, you know.

Where's Phil?

Oh, he's... He's giving his statement
to...

...to Howard and the police.

Well, bang goes my pension, then, eh?

I don't think they can, er,

hold you entirely responsible, Martin.

You did it in the spirit of fairness.

No, I did it...

I did it for love.

Has Calvin been around?

No. I believe his agent
whisked him away.

He'll be wanting to get his side
of the story

in the Sunday papers
before all the rumours start.

Yeah, of course...

He's a good lad.

If there's any way of keeping my name
out of it, I'd appreciate it, boss.

Oh, yeah, of course.

Well, I'll do what I can.

Thanks.

Hey, er, give my love to the San Siro.

Heh!

- In bocca al lupo.
- (CHUCKLES)

Good luck.

(KNOCK AT DOOR)

Come in.

Hi.

I just want to apologise about earlier,
you know.

Things were said
in the heat of the moment.

There's no hard feelings, Mitch, eh?
I understand.

Get carried away, we do, don't we, eh?

About 22 blokes chasing a pig's bladder
around a field.

Well, the game's nothing without passion
and we should never apologise for that.

Thanks. Er...

Anyway, look,
I just wanted to let you know

that the place is crawling
with press out there

and they all want to talk to you.

They're saying all sorts of nonsense
about you and young Calvin.

I don't believe a word of it,
mind you, now,

but when you leave, you know,
you ought to use the back entrance.

Exit.

That's the one. Not the...

All right.

Oh, er, hey!

You're a City fan, aren't you?

Er, yeah, yeah, for my sins.

Well, if it's any consolation, you had
a good win today, you know, Preston.

- 3-1.
- Oh, well. Every cloud, eh?

They've also said
they're gonna dock us points,

by the look of things,
because of all the fracas.

- Oh, you think so?
- Well, you saw it out there.

I mean, it was brutal.

They're already calling it
"The War of Wallis Park".

Gary Lineker, he's been on Twitter
saying that it would be morally wrong

if we were promoted.

Yeah, but he's into refugees
and all that malarkey.

So he shouldn't be listened to, really.

He's an interfering do-gooder.

Yeah. Never professionally booked, though,
eh? That takes some restraint.

You know what that means, though,
don't you? We get docked

and we're gonna go down to third place.

And that means you lot, City,

you're gonna get promoted
instead of us, you know?

£150 million quid right up the shitter!

No offence.

Well, that would be something.

Anyway, you know, I just wanted
to say it's been a real pleasure

to work with you over the years,

and it's a shame it had to end like this,
really, isn't it, you know?

Football, eh?

Bloody hell.

Oh, Mitch, can I ask you a question?

Yeah. Yeah.

What creature are you?

What, this?

Absolutely no idea.

I know I look a right See You Next Tuesday
in it, but, er...

...you do anything for your club,
don't you?

I suppose you do, yeah.

(CROWD ROARS)