VAR's New Trap: How Offside Tech Is Making Striker Play Impossible

Offside technology is a fool’s errand

Football has surrendered its soul to a machine that measures defiance in millimetres. The new semi-automated offside system, trialled in the Champions League and now creeping into domestic competitions, doesn’t clarify – it neurotically dissects every run, turning goals into provisional verdicts subject to digital appeal. This isn’t progress; it’s a bureaucratic strangulation of the game’s most visceral joy: the striker’s split-second bet on timing. We have traded instinct for a geometry lesson, and the sport is poorer for it.

The false precision of the laser line

For all its technological veneer, the system relies on the same flawed premise that corrupted goal-line technology: that 30 frames per second can capture a blur of motion with absolute truth. At full sprint, a forward’s shoulder moves several centimetres between frames, so the system interpolates, guessing a position that never actually existed. The result? A goal disallowed because a knee was “offside” by 1.2cm – a distance smaller than the margin of error in the calibration. Last season, Liverpool’s Darwin Núñez had a perfectly legitimate strike chalked off when his heel was deemed ahead of the last defender by a margin that the league’s own protocol admits is subject to a 3cm deviation. Yet the assistant referee’s flag went up only after the VAR check – not because of a clear and obvious error, but because a computer said so.

This isn’t fairness; it’s a new form of injustice, one that disproportionately penalises proactive, attacking sides. The famous “toenail offside” against Manchester City in 2019, when Raheem Sterling’s armpit was deemed active, was a warning. Today, with semi-automated tracking, the travesty has become routine. A study by the CIES Football Observatory found that the number of goals disallowed for offside in Europe’s top five leagues increased by 34% since the technology’s widespread adoption – not because forwards are timing runs worse, but because tolerance has shrunk to a ludicrous threshold.

The case for abandoning the millimetre rule

My argument is simple: the offside rule was never intended to penalise attackers for arm hairs. It exists to prevent goal-hanging, not to punish a shoulder that leans a fraction beyond the last defender’s hip. The “clear and obvious” standard that underpins VAR was supposed to prevent such pedantry, but semi-automation has eviscerated that principle, replacing human discretion with algorithmic certainty. Consider three specific cases this season:

Bournemouth’s Dominic Solanke had a goal disallowed at the Etihad when his left earlobe was judged offside – a decision that took four minutes to reach and was later apologised for, but the damage was done.
Arsenal’s Gabriel Jesus was denied a late winner against Chelsea when the system flagged his shoulder as offside, despite the fact that the defender’s trailing leg was playing him onside. The replay showed the defender’s boot clearly behind the line, but the system’s 3D model misaligned the skeletal data.
Crystal Palace’s Jean-Philippe Mateta saw a penalty overturned when VAR ruled he had strayed offside in the build-up – a phase that involved two passes and a defensive error. The offside was so marginal that even the commentator’s freeze-frame couldn’t see it without a magnifying glass.

These are not isolated glitches; they are structural consequences of a system that prioritises mathematical purity over the flow of the game. The Premier League’s own handbook states that offside should only be given for a “clear and obvious” error, yet semi-automated tech has abandoned that standard. The result is a two-tiered justice system: VAR intervenes for a millimetre, but ignores a blatant push in the back because the cameras can’t provide a definitive angle. We are not improving accuracy; we are simply shifting the debate from human error to machine bias.

In defence of the technology – and why it fails

Proponents argue that the technology is more accurate than the human eye, and that it reduces the time taken for checks. They point to the FIFA World Cup 2022, where decisions were delivered in an average of 25 seconds, down from over a minute. But this speed is a con: the system’s quickness is achieved by automating a decision that should be subject to interpretation. The “kick point” – the exact moment the ball is played – is still determined by a human operator, often a broadcast editor, who can slow the frame to a point that suits a predetermined narrative. In a rush to appear decisive, the system often overrides the on-field referee’s benefit of the doubt, which was historically always given to the attacker for marginal calls. The International Football Association Board (IFAB) specifically advised that “the benefit of the doubt should be given to the attacking side,” but semi-automation has inverted this, assuming the attacker is offside unless proven otherwise.

Moreover, the technology has not eradicated controversy; it has merely relocated it. The infamous “ghost goal” at Aston Villa in 2023, where the ball wasn’t proven to have crossed the line, was a glaring reminder that even goal-line technology can fail. Semi-automated offside is no different – it’s a black box that outputs numbers, but we have no idea how those numbers are calculated. There is no appeal process, no way for a manager to challenge a decision, and no transparency in the algorithm’s calibration. This is not justice; it’s a ticket machine that occasionally spits out nonsense.

Verdict: The Premier League must scrap the millimetre

By 2026, the Premier League will have abandoned the semi-automated offside system for all marginal calls. The pressure from managers, players, and fans will become intolerable after a high-profile title race is decided by a phantom offside – perhaps in a Manchester derby or an Arsenal-Liverpool clash. The league will revert to a simplified “clear offside” rule, where only a defender’s and attacker’s feet are considered, and any doubt is given to the striker. This will happen not because of reasoned debate, but because the sport’s entertainment mandate will override its technocratic fantasy. The bet I’m making: by August 2026, we will see a striker celebrate a goal that was initially flagged – and the Premier League will use that moment to announce a return to “common sense.” The stakes are high: if they cling to the millimetre, they risk turning the Premier League into a chess match for accountants, where goals are deductions and joy is postponed indefinitely. The choice is theirs, but history suggests the fans will win – eventually.