Officially exhausting

By Pete Sanderson

Fitness test
Finding the answer to that question was one of my missions as I touched down in Nice for the annual UEFA refereeing course in which a new FIFA fitness test would be assessed by six French referees and - quite hilariously - me.

Whistler blower
The previous year I had been posted to Madrid to endure a similarly gruelling assessment called the Cooper Run. By some form of jaw-dropping miracle and - amid a shower of unrepeatable expletives - I actually passed the 2004 version of the test although, admittedly, three weeks worth of overwhelming stiffness and pain ensued. This year, however, it was a whole new ball game.

No pain no gain
"Last year was a stroll in the park," said UEFA physical instructor Werner Helsen, clearly trying to shatter any remaining embers of confidence that had remained intact from the previous year's debacle. "This is longer, harder and far more appropriate for the type of physical demands placed on referees. You may not complete it - but do keep going until you feel sick." Wonderful.

Death's door
The task which lay before myself and the six referees involved us running ten laps with each lap being divided into 2x150m sprints and 2x50m walks. Both the 150m sprints and the walks had to be completed in 30 seconds. By the time Helsen had explained the run, however, there did not seem much point in me filling out the medical form. I had already lost the will to live.

Guinea pigs
As we limbered up for the 4,000m challenge from hell, I tried to avoid catching the glance of the French referees in case they saw the fear in my eyes. "Sure you want to do this?" said Helsen. "Yes," I lied. I had not felt this nervous since my first day at school.

Hitting the wall
The next 20 minutes were quite simply the most excruciating of my life. The first lap was bearable, the second tolerable, the fourth took me beyond the threshold of pain and by the sixth I would be lying if I said I had not penned my own obituary in my head.

Wincing
What made matters worse was the man setting the searing pace hardly seemed to be breaking into a sweat. My only solace was that one of the French referees, who - like your intrepid reporter - had been wincing from the off, was the first to crack on the seventh lap. The sheer relief on his face (just before he started vomiting) said it all.

Collina and Frisk
The only thing that was driving me on now was the fact that a crowd, which included élite officials Pierluigi Collina and Anders Frisk, had gathered - possibly in anticipation of my final hour. I flashed a smile in their direction and then, in one almighty explosion, I was hit by what felt like a sniper in the back of my right leg.

Overwhelming pain
I shuddered to a spectacular halt and collapsed in a heap on the floor clutching my hamstring. It was proof, if I ever needed it, that if anybody was not fit to referee a UEFA Champions League game it was me. It was probably time to blow the whistle on my running career - and definitely time to curb any chants which questioned the fitness of any referee.