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I went to the lower level, dusted off the balance I had evaded for a long time and looked at the screen: 99.2kg. During the last eight years, I had dropped nearly 10kg. I had transformed from being a official who was overweight and unfit to being light and conditioned. It had demanded dedication, filled with patience, tough decisions and priorities. But it was also the beginning of a transformation that gradually meant pressure, pressure and disquiet around the assessments that the authorities had enforced.

You didn't just need to be a good official, it was also about emphasizing eating habits, presenting as a top-level referee, that the body mass and fat percentages were correct, otherwise you faced being reprimanded, receiving less assignments and finding yourself in the wilderness.

When the refereeing organisation was overhauled during the summer of 2010, Pierluigi Collina introduced a number of changes. During the initial period, there was an extreme focus on body shape, measurements of weight and body fat, and required optical assessments. Optical checks might seem like a given practice, but it hadn't been before. At the training programs they not only examined basic things like being able to read small text at a particular length, but also specialized examinations adapted for top-level match arbiters.

Some referees were discovered as color deficient. Another proved to be lacking vision in one eye and was forced to quit. At least that's what the gossip said, but no one knew for sure – because about the results of the vision test, nothing was revealed in larger groups. For me, the vision test was a reassurance. It demonstrated competence, thoroughness and a desire to improve.

When it came to body mass examinations and fat percentage, however, I largely sensed disgust, irritation and degradation. It wasn't the assessments that were the problem, but the manner of execution.

The initial occasion I was obliged to experience the degrading process was in the late 2010 period at our regular session. We were in the Slovenian capital. On the initial session, the umpires were divided into three units of about 15. When my unit had walked into the large, cold assembly area where we were to assemble, the leadership directed us to undress to our intimate apparel. We glanced around, but nobody responded or attempted to object.

We gradually removed our attire. The prior evening, we had been given explicit directions not to consume food or beverages in the morning but to be as devoid as we could when we were to undergo the test. It was about weighing as little as possible, and having as minimal body fat as possible. And to resemble a referee should according to the paradigm.

There we stood in a extended line, in just our underclothes. We were Europe's best referees, professional competitors, inspirations, mature individuals, parents, strong personalities with high principles … but nobody spoke. We scarcely glanced at each other, our looks shifted a bit anxiously while we were invited as duos. There Collina scrutinized us from head to toe with an ice-cold look. Silent and attentive. We mounted the scale one by one. I pulled in my stomach, adjusted my posture and held my breath as if it would make any difference. One of the instructors loudly announced: "The Swedish official, 96.2 kilograms." I sensed how the boss stopped, glanced my way and scanned my almost bare body. I reflected that this is not worthy. I'm an grown person and compelled to be here and be examined and judged.

I alighted from the scale and it appeared as if I was standing in a fog. The same instructor advanced with a kind of pliers, a instrument resembling a lie detector that he began to pinch me with on various areas of the body. The caliper, as the instrument was called, was chilly and I started a little every time it made contact.

The instructor compressed, drew, applied pressure, quantified, reassessed, mumbled something inaudible, reapplied force and compressed my dermis and adipose tissue. After each assessment point, he declared the measurement in mm he could gauge.

I had no idea what the values stood for, if it was positive or negative. It required about a minute. An aide recorded the numbers into a document, and when all four values had been determined, the file quickly calculated my overall body fat. My reading was proclaimed, for all to hear: "Eriksson, eighteen point seven percent."

Why did I not, or somebody else, voice an opinion?

Why couldn't we get to our feet and state what all were thinking: that it was humiliating. If I had raised my voice I would have at the same time sealed my career's death sentence. If I had challenged or challenged the procedures that the chief had implemented then I would not have received any matches, I'm certain of that.

Naturally, I also wanted to become more athletic, reduce my mass and reach my goal, to become a world-class referee. It was clear you ought not to be heavy, similarly apparent you ought to be in shape – and certainly, maybe the entire referee corps required a professionalisation. But it was wrong to try to achieve that through a humiliating weigh-in and an strategy where the key objective was to reduce mass and lower your body fat.

Our two annual courses subsequently adhered to the same routine. Weight check, body fat assessment, fitness exams, regulation quizzes, reviews of interpretations, team activities and then at the end all would be recapped. On a document, we all got data about our fitness statistics – pointers pointing if we were going in the proper course (down) or improper course (up).

Body fat levels were categorised into five groups. An acceptable outcome was if you {belong