Referee denies Darwin Nunez a penalty against Al-Nassr: Expert Mohamed Kamal Reesha speaks out

In the 40th minute, on the turf of Al-Awwal Park in Riyadh, Darwin Nunez went down inside the box. The referee did not blow his whistle. The Al-Diriyah striker got back to his feet, arms spread wide, eyes wide open, staring toward the man with the whistle. No shout, no furious protest — just a look of astonishment, the kind worn by someone who has just realised that what he believed was obvious is not obvious to anyone else.

Then the referee walked to the pitchside monitor. The stadium fell silent. That is the silence I always remember from every assignment: not the moment the ball hits the net, but the moment everyone holds their breath waiting for one man to review himself. An absent round of applause is still a piece of music — if you know how to listen.

The referee finished watching. He upheld his decision: no penalty. A football expert named Mohamed Kamal Reesha later spoke out, confirming that the decision was correct. And so the story of "did the referee deny Nunez a penalty?" was closed by a professional verdict. But for me, it opened more questions than it closed.

The match belonged to Round 8 of the Saudi Roshn League — the top division of Saudi Arabian football. Al-Nassr hosted Al-Diriyah at their home ground, Al-Awwal Park in Riyadh. This is the early-to-mid season, when the table has not yet taken clear shape and every point carries its own weight.

What stands out is the power context of the fixture. Al-Nassr is one of the PIF-backed "big four", Cristiano Ronaldo's club, sitting in the highest spending tier of the league. Al-Diriyah, on the opposite side, is regarded as a lower-tier side. That gap is not mentioned in the source article, but it is the backdrop anyone following Saudi football quietly understands.

The controversial incident occurred a few minutes before the break. Nunez, the Al-Diriyah striker, was impeded inside the box by full-back Awad Aman. He went down. The referee did not award a penalty. VAR intervened, the referee went to the monitor to review, and the final decision remained no penalty.

One thing must be said at once: the source article provides no scoreline, names no referee, cites no specific article of the Laws, and offers no tactical data whatsoever — no line-ups, no possession figures, no xG. It revolves solely around one refereeing decision and one player's reaction. Any inference about team form or the title race is therefore speculation, not analysis. I will not invent it.

Based on my experience watching matches, this is the kind of story whose real value lies in the protocol, not the outcome. And the VAR protocol is what deserves to be dissected.

VAR — the Video Assistant Referee — is designed to intervene in four match-changing categories: goals, penalties, red cards, and mistaken identity. But VAR only intervenes when there is a "clear and obvious error". This is a deliberately high threshold, because football wants to keep the final decision with the on-field referee, not hand it to a room full of screens.

In this situation, the referee walked to the pitchside monitor — that is, an On-Field Review (OFR). This is the point many fans misunderstand: when a referee is called to review, it does not mean he is obliged to change his decision. Going to review only confirms that VAR has flagged a questionable incident. The final judgement remains his, and upholding his original call is a perfectly valid outcome under the protocol.

This is the point I want to stress: a review does not equal a reversal. A referee going to the monitor and still upholding his decision is not a sign of contradiction or weakness — it is the protocol being applied exactly as designed.

Expert Mohamed Kamal Reesha issued his verdict based on IFAB's Law 12 — the law on fouls and misconduct. He stated that "the contact is natural and does not amount to a foul". This is a threshold judgement. Under Law 12, not every contact is a foul; incidental, natural contact during a challenge does not reach the foul threshold. If one accepts that reading, the conclusion that "allowing play to continue is a correct decision" is logically consistent.

But one thing requires caution: the article names no referee, cites no specific article number, and carries no official ruling from any governing body. It rests on one expert's interpretation. This is "opinion granted authority", not a formal compliance determination. The expert may be right, but he is not the body that issues the final ruling.

A technical detail is also overlooked: full-back Awad Aman is a defender, while Nunez is a striker. A striker impeded by a full-back inside the box is a familiar situation — but the article does not confirm whether this was open play or a set piece. I raise this to show that even the most basic "fact" is missing, and any deeper tactical analysis would be fiction. The pitch does not lie — only the writer's heart deceives itself.

What is worth remembering here is not the referee's decision, but the way the story is told.

The headline "an expert settles it" is a classic resolution-framing device. It promises closure. It invites the reader to believe the controversy has reached its end. But ask yourself: who benefits from the story being closed so quickly?

In a league with such a stark power imbalance as the Saudi Pro League, where a state-backed "big four" faces the rest, every decision favouring the big club carries a hard-to-erase aftertaste. This no-penalty call favoured Al-Nassr — the hosts, the bigger club, the more scrutinised club. An expert speaking out to defend that decision helps soothe the question of "was the smaller club robbed of a penalty?" before it can spread.

I am not saying the expert is wrong. I am saying that an international outlet choosing to publish a piece defending the decision — rather than simply reporting neutrally — is itself a signal. You only call in an expert to "settle it" when there is already enough noise demanding resolution. The very existence of the article is evidence that the decision was contested in Saudi football media.

This is the blind spot of collective memory: we remember controversial decisions, but we forget how quickly we forget them. A VAR call in Round 8 will live in the media's memory for a few days, then fade. What remains is not the truth of the incident, but the aftertaste of who benefited.

And this is what I have learned after years standing on the border between two football cultures: in Vietnam, in Korea, or in Saudi Arabia, the reaction to a refereeing decision is never merely technical. It is a reaction about power. That is why a natural contact inside the box can become a debate about fairness — not because the law is hard to understand, but because trust is fragile.

From a student newsroom to Kazan, I learned that the pen also needs feet. There are matches where you must stand very close to see what numbers cannot tell. But there are also situations where no amount of closeness suffices, because the truth lies in a protocol rather than an emotion.

So did the referee deny Nunez a penalty? On protocol, the answer is: he correctly applied the "clear and obvious error" standard in deciding not to reverse. On emotion, the answer still hangs in the astonished gaze of a striker, in the sighs of those who believe the smaller club always pays the price.

We watch sport not to escape life, but to understand life better. And sometimes understanding life better means accepting that a legally correct decision can still leave a scratch on trust. The match ends, but the newsreel of memory never runs out of time.