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I descended to the cellar, cleaned the balance I had shunned for a long time and observed the display: 99.2kg. During the last eight years, I had dropped nearly 10kg. I had gone from being a official who was bulky and untrained to being light and fit. It had required effort, packed with patience, difficult choices and priorities. But it was also the commencement of a transformation that progressively brought anxiety, tension and discomfort around the assessments that the authorities had implemented.

You didn't just need to be a skilled umpire, it was also about emphasizing eating habits, appearing as a elite official, that the body mass and adipose levels were correct, otherwise you were in danger of being penalized, receiving less assignments and landing in the cold.

When the refereeing organisation was overhauled during the 2010 summer season, Pierluigi Collina introduced a set of modifications. During the first year, there was an strong concentration on physique, measurements of weight and fat percentage, and mandatory vision tests. Vision tests might appear as a given practice, but it wasn't previously before. At the courses they not only examined fundamental aspects like being able to read small text at a specific range, but also specialized examinations adapted for top-level match arbiters.

Some umpires were identified as colour blind. Another turned out to be blind in one eye and was obliged to retire. At least that's what the gossip said, but nobody was certain – because concerning the results of the vision test, nothing was revealed in big gatherings. For me, the vision test was a reassurance. It indicated competence, thoroughness and a aim to get better.

Concerning body mass examinations and fat percentage, however, I mostly felt revulsion, anger and degradation. It wasn't the examinations that were the issue, but the way they were conducted.

The opening instance I was compelled to undergo the embarrassing ritual was in the late 2010 period at our yearly training. We were in Ljubljana, Slovenia. On the initial session, the officials were split into three teams of about 15. When my group had walked into the large, cold conference room where we were to assemble, the leadership directed us to strip down to our underclothes. We glanced around, but nobody responded or attempted to object.

We slowly took off our clothes. The prior evening, we had been given clear instructions not to have any nourishment in the morning but to be as depleted as we could when we were to participate in the examination. It was about weighing as little as possible, and having as low a fat percentage as possible. And to appear as a umpire should according to the standard.

There we remained in a extended line, in just our intimate apparel. We were the continent's top officials, elite athletes, role models, grown-ups, parents, strong personalities with strong ethics … but everyone remained mute. We hardly peered at each other, our eyes darted a bit anxiously while we were called forward two by two. There the boss scrutinized us from completely with an chilling stare. Mute and attentive. We mounted the weighing machine individually. I pulled in my abdomen, adjusted my posture and ceased breathing as if it would have an effect. One of the instructors loudly announced: "Eriksson, Sweden, 96.2 kilos." I sensed how the chief paused, glanced my way and inspected my nearly naked body. I mused that this lacks respect. I'm an grown person and compelled to remain here and be examined and judged.

I stepped off the weighing machine and it appeared as if I was disoriented. The identical trainer came forward with a type of caliper, a instrument resembling a lie detector that he started to squeeze me with on various areas of the body. The pinching instrument, as the instrument was called, was cool and I jumped a little every time it touched my body.

The coach pressed, pulled, forced, measured, reassessed, mumbled something inaudible, squeezed once more and pinched my dermis and body fat. After each assessment point, he announced the measurement in mm he could assess.

I had no understanding what the values signified, if it was good or bad. It took maybe just over a minute. An aide entered the values into a file, and when all four values had been calculated, the record rapidly computed my total fat percentage. My value was announced, for all to hear: "Eriksson, 18.7%."

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

Why didn't we get to our feet and state what everyone thought: that it was demeaning. If I had raised my voice I would have simultaneously executed my professional demise. If I had questioned or opposed the methods that the boss had introduced then I wouldn't have got any fixtures, I'm certain of that.

Of course, I also wanted to become in better shape, reduce my mass and attain my target, to become a world-class referee. It was evident you ought not to be above the ideal weight, equally obvious you must be in shape – and sure, maybe the complete roster of officials demanded a professional upgrade. But it was incorrect to try to reach that level through a humiliating weigh-in and an strategy where the key objective was to lose weight and minimise your body fat.

Our twice-yearly trainings after that adhered to the same routine. Weigh-in, body fat assessment, running tests, laws of the game examinations, reviews of interpretations, collaborative exercises and then at the end a summary was provided. On a report, we all got data about our body metrics – indicators showing if we were going in the proper course (down) or incorrect path (up).

Body fat levels were grouped into five categories. An approved result was if you {belong