Immediate dismissal from the field is the ultimate sanction, and is reserved for obvious and blatant cheating, serious foul play, violent conduct or using offensive, insulting or abusive language and/or actions.
A straight red card creates a disadvantage for the team thus deprived of a player, a serious punishment for a serious offence.
Unless, it seems, your name is Folarin Balogun and you play for the United States.
Balogun, a striker and one of Team USA’s top players, was redcarded after his boot contacted a Bosnian opponent on the calf, scraped down his leg to the achilles tendon, and then bent Tarik Muharemovic’s angle at an ugly 45 degree angle.
To be fair to Balogun, this happened by accident; he was falling backwards and made contact with Muharemovic. But a red card, and a ban from a looming knockout match against Belgium ensued.
Or at least it did until US President Donald Trump got himself involved. In circumstances which remain murky, it seems that the President rang an unidentified person of influence at Fifa, and suggested that he did not think that the red card was fair.
Hey presto, and thanks to Article 27 of the Fifa disciplinary code — which, beforehand, few people knew existed — Folarin Balogun was back on the pitch for the US against Belgium, accompanied by howls of protest.
Not that it did anyone much good — Belgium were comprehensive winners.
In recent days Mr Trump may well have had cause to reflect about why some people listen to him and some do not.
All it took to remedy, so far as he saw it, the injustice of the Folarin Balogun situation was just one phone call.
On the other hand, the President has been telling the world for days that Iran was about to sign a peace deal to end a conflict which Mr Trump himself had largely initiated.
But no-one in Tehran, seemingly, was picking up the phone, much less immediately surrendering to Mr Trump’s will in craven fashion.
Iran remained firmly and stubbornly in command of the Strait of Hormuz, through which of the oil fuelling the world’s economy is shipped, and had tackled ships in the waters in a way which Mr Trump did not like.
His retaliatory lunge of Iran, in the form of two days and counting of missile and air strikes, more than constitutes violent conduct — not that anyone is likely to show a red card to Mr Trump anytime soon, although the irony of the inaugural recipient of the Fifa Peace Prize engaging in acts of war during the Fifa World Cup is lost on no one.
In fact, having committed serious foul play, Mr Trump doubled down with some insulting or abusive language, saying of Iran ‘‘They’re sick people. They’re led by sick people and they’re vicious, violent people,’’ and followed up by saying that they were ‘‘cuckoo’’.
Hardly diplomacy as Kissinger or Metternich would recognise it, but entirely in keeping with the US President’s unvarnished and non-sensitive method of negotiation.
Sadly, none of this is a game. While it does resemble the football World Cup in that it is being played for high stakes and billions of dollars are on the line, only Congress can give Mr Trump a red card and that does not seem likely to happen any time soon.
Actually, who knows who on earth the referee is in this context?
Whoever is controlling this game is putting in an anonymous performance and seems to lack any authority over the players.
If they had a red card Mr Trump would not even have to put in a call to anybody; he would likely keep on playing regardless of what the referee had said — as indeed he just has.
This war has had, and continues to have, global ramifications. Just when many hoped it was nearing full-time, it appears that we might not even have reached halftime.
But one thing everyone can agree on is that no-one wants any Gulf equivalent of football’s other great drama — the penalty shootout.
