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I descended to the basement, dusted off the weighing machine I had evaded for a long time and glanced at the screen: 99.2kg. Over the past eight years, I had dropped nearly 10kg. I had evolved from being a umpire who was heavy and out of shape to being slender and fit. It had required effort, packed with persistence, hard calls and commitments. But it was also the commencement of a shift that gradually meant pressure, tension and disquiet around the examinations that the authorities had enforced.

You didn't just need to be a competent official, it was also about focusing on nutrition, presenting as a elite umpire, that the mass and body fat were correct, otherwise you risked being penalized, receiving less assignments and landing in the cold.

When the refereeing organisation was overhauled during the mid-2010 period, the head official brought in a number of changes. During the initial period, there was an strong concentration on body shape, body mass assessments and adipose tissue, and compulsory eyesight exams. Optical checks might sound like a standard practice, but it hadn't been before. At the courses they not only tested basic things like being able to read small text at a specific range, but also more specific tests tailored to elite soccer officials.

Some referees were discovered as color deficient. Another proved to be lacking vision in one eye and was obliged to retire. At least that's what the gossip said, but no one knew for sure – because regarding the findings of the vision test, nothing was revealed in big gatherings. For me, the optical check was a confidence boost. It indicated expertise, attention to detail and a aim to get better.

Regarding tests of weight and adipose measurement, however, I largely sensed revulsion, frustration and humiliation. It wasn't the tests that were the difficulty, but the way they were conducted.

The initial occasion I was forced to endure the embarrassing ritual was in the fall of 2010 at our regular session. We were in a European city. On the opening day, the referees were split into three groups of about 15. When my group had entered the large, cold conference room where we were to assemble, the leadership urged us to undress to our underclothes. We exchanged glances, but nobody responded or ventured to speak.

We gradually removed our garments. The evening before, we had received specific orders not to consume food or beverages in the morning but to be as devoid as we could when we were to take the assessment. It was about registering the lowest mass as possible, and having as reduced adipose level as possible. And to appear as a official should according to the model.

There we were positioned in a lengthy queue, in just our intimate apparel. We were the continent's top officials, top sportsmen, exemplars, grown-ups, parents, assertive characters with strong ethics … but no one said anything. We barely looked at each other, our looks shifted a bit apprehensively while we were summoned as duos. There the boss observed us from top to bottom with an frigid look. Mute and watchful. We stepped onto the balance singly. I contracted my belly, adjusted my posture and held my breath as if it would have an effect. One of the coaches clearly stated: "The Swedish official, 96.2 kilograms." I felt how the boss paused, observed me and inspected my nearly naked body. I mused that this lacks respect. I'm an adult and obliged to stand here and be examined and assessed.

I alighted from the weighing machine and it felt like I was in a daze. The identical trainer approached with a sort of clamp, a instrument resembling a lie detector that he started to squeeze me with on assorted regions of the body. The measuring tool, as the device was called, was cool and I started a little every time it made contact.

The trainer pressed, drew, forced, gauged, measured again, mumbled something inaudible, squeezed once more and pinched my dermis and adipose tissue. After each test site, he declared the measurement in mm he could assess.

I had no understanding what the values represented, if it was favorable or unfavorable. It took maybe just over a minute. An helper recorded the numbers into a document, and when all readings had been calculated, the record rapidly computed my total fat percentage. My reading was announced, for all to hear: "The official, 18.7 percent."

Why did I not, or any other person, voice an opinion?

What stopped us from rise and state what all were thinking: that it was humiliating. If I had raised my voice I would have simultaneously sealed my end of my officiating path. If I had doubted or opposed the techniques that Collina had introduced then I would not have received any fixtures, I'm convinced of that.

Of course, I also desired to become fitter, reduce my mass and achieve my objective, to become a world-class referee. It was obvious you shouldn't be above the ideal weight, just as clear you must be in shape – and admittedly, maybe the complete roster of officials needed a standardization. But it was incorrect to try to achieve that through a humiliating weigh-in and an agenda where the key objective was to reduce mass and minimise your body fat.

Our two annual courses thereafter adhered to the same routine. Weight check, measurement of fat percentage, running tests, regulation quizzes, analysis of decisions, team activities and then at the end all would be recapped. On a file, we all got information about our fitness statistics – indicators pointing if we were going in the correct path (down) or incorrect path (up).

Adipose measurements were grouped into five categories. An approved result was if you {belong