Soccer superstar set to hang up his whistle

By most accounts, Collina does not do shabby work. The international soccer federation has named him world’s best referee in six out of the last seven seasons, during which time he has officiated the finals of the World Cup and other top tournaments.

At the 1996 Olympics in Atlanta, the entire Chinese team came up to him after a match, one by one, seeking autographs and pictures with Italy’s unlikely idol. ‘‘Even an injured player came hopping off the bench,’’ he said.

But despite the accolades, this may be the last season for soccer’s reigning lawman. The international and Italian soccer federations have a 45-year age limit on referees, which means that Collina, whose birthday was last week, will effectively be benched after the season’s final whistle blows in June.

‘‘If they don’t change the rule, it would be a shame, because Collina is a real treasure for the sport,’’ said Tullio Lanese, the president of Italy’s referee union, which is currently lobbying to raise the retirement age to 48. ‘‘When there is a great athlete, he deserves a chance.’’ Collina refuses to talk about efforts underway to change either the international or the Italian rule. But in his 2003 book, ‘‘The Rules of the Game,’’ he wrote that the prospect of having to call it quits left ‘‘a bitter taste in my mouth’’.

Intensely serious about refereeing, which earns him more than $200,000 a year, Collina works out four days a week. Before a match he also reads up on the players and spends up to 15 hours watching tape. Tall stacks of soccer video cassettes make a skyline on the television in the living room.

‘‘You must know everything,’’ he said. ‘‘The tactics, the skills of the players; for a referee it is important not to react to something, but to know what is going to happen. Reacting is too late.’’

He also claims to have an innate resistance to anxiety, and credits nerves of steel for getting him through everything from economics exams in college to championship matches.

That mix of confidence and concentration has prompted corporations like IBM and Unilever to hire him as a consultant to help develop their employees’ decision-making skills. His on-field performance, business savvy and distinctive dome have led to endorsements and appearances in television commercials, music videos and even a fashion show.

Not everyone agrees. Fans of Juventus charge that Collina is biased and say he has cost their team matches and championships.

‘‘The more you rule against Juventus, the more famous you get, and Collina wants fame because he wants sponsors and money,’’ said Sergio Vessicchio, the creator of the “I Hate Collina” Web site, which has registered more than 200,000 hits over the last two years. ‘‘He makes more mistakes than anyone, but no one says anything because he is now considered a national treasure. Give me a break.’’

Despite such criticism, Collina has consistently received the highest profile assignments in soccer and, for the most part, enjoys his country’s esteem.

After Collina presided over the World Cup final in 2002, Italy’s president, Carlo Azeglio Ciampi, honored him for exporting a positive image of Italy to the world.

Since making it to the Italian big leagues in 1991, he has used his silver whistle to humble the world’s highest-paid players and then whittled away countless hours in locker rooms waiting for angry fans to go home. He has forced fascist hooligans to take down racist banners and dodged water bottles, flares, smoke and concussion bombs launched from the stands onto the Italian fields.

It is clear that sitting around the house and waiting for his future to be decided does not suit Collina well.

‘‘If you are used to taking decisions, it’s not easy to let someone else take them for you,’’ he said. Later, after his wife rebuked him for coming home late to lunch, he added, ‘‘At home, the only one who accepts my decisions is the dog.’’

(The New York Times)