In a move that has sent shockwaves through the tearooms of Surrey and the gin palaces of Soho, FIFA has intervened to ensure that British-trained Somali referee, Ismail Artan, will indeed receive his full World Cup fee. This, after it was discovered that the poor chap had been subjected to the sort of financial chicanery normally reserved for the cast of a Fyre Festival documentary.
Let us pause here and consider the sheer absurdity of the situation. Here is a man, trained in the hallowed arts of whistle blowing and yellow card waving by the finest minds in British officiating, who has been sent to the World Cup as a beacon of hope for Somali football. A symbol of progress, of unity, of the beautiful game's power to transcend borders. And what does he get for his troubles? A promise of expenses, a pat on the back, and the distinct impression that he might be expected to pay for his own flights.
It is a tale as old as time: the plucky underdog, the brave pioneer, sent to do a job that could have been done by any overpaid European official with a suspicious tan and a Rolex. But no, FIFA, in their infinite wisdom, decided that Artan should be paid the same as every other referee. Which, when you think about it, is not so much a victory for equality as it is a damning indictment of the wages afforded to all officials in a sport that doesn't think twice about paying a centre back with the touch of a rhinoceros enough money to buy a small Caribbean island.
But let us not be churlish. The intervention, however belated, is to be applauded. For once, the suits in Zurich have done something that doesn't involve covering up corruption or awarding a World Cup to a country where the biggest export is sand and the national sport seems to be 'find the air conditioning'. They have ensured that a man who risked his life to officiate in Mogadishu, who trained in the rain-sodden parks of the Home Counties, and who has the dubious honour of being the first Somali to officiate at a World Cup, will not have to rely on the hospitality of the Qatari room service to feed his family.
One can only imagine the scene at FIFA headquarters. A meeting, no doubt, called in a panic after a particularly damaging headline in the Guardian. A flunky, barely out of short trousers, sent to deliver the good news to Artan via WhatsApp. The man himself, perhaps in the middle of a training session, dodging aggressive mannequins and practicing his 'I am not having any of your nonsense' face. The message pops up: 'Good news, Ismail. We've found the money. You'll get your full fee. Just don't tell the others.'
And so, the world breathes a collective sigh of relief. Justice has been done. The system works. A Somali referee will be paid a sum that, for a Premier League player, would barely cover the cost of a decent haircut. But for Artan, it is a victory. A vindication. A sign that sometimes, just sometimes, the global footballing behemoth can be prodded into doing the right thing.
But let us not get carried away. The larger question remains: why did it take a public outcry to get a man paid for his work? Why are we celebrating the fact that FIFA has done the very least that could be expected of it? It is like applauding a bank robber for not shooting the teller. A low bar, made lower by the desperate need for good news in a sport that has become a cesspit of greed and indifference.
Still, we must take our victories where we can find them. Raise a glass of warm, slightly flat lager to Ismail Artan. The man who stood up to the system and, with the help of a few well-placed articles and a social media campaign that would make a Kardashian blush, forced the mighty FIFA to open its wallet. We salute you, sir. Now go out there and send off a Portuguese superstar with the confidence of a man who knows he's worth every penny.
