It's a confused mess

Julia is still gripping your hand when the set piece is performed. The winger boots the ball into the box, where girls from both teams jump to intercept it, but it skitters off somebody at an angle, ending up on the ground while players lunge at it desperately, trying to kick it past their opponents either towards or away from the goal. The ball repeatedly rebounds off one player or another, back into the middle of the mayhem, but then suddenly spins away in an unexpected direction, trickling over the line just barely before the goalkeeper can rescue it.

The effect is immediate, a roar of celebration engulfing your side, whilst groans of disappointment are audible from opposite. Down on the pitch, though, the excitement's not over. The professionals are appealing to the referee about something and are doing it rather animatedly, with a lot of exaggerated gestures and wild swings of the arms. The university squad is wisely staying out of it.

You can't tell what the issue is and don't want to seem silly by asking, but fortunately Julia realizes you might be all at sea and tells you that one of your girls is being accused of interfering with the other team, pushing or pulling another player to stop her getting the ball under control. The attractive Tutor for Women also takes the opportunity to surreptitiously release your hand, possibly embarrassed by her display of emotion, now the momentary euphoria has passed.

Spectators gradually quieten as they become aware of the dispute on the pitch. The referee's shaking his head and then makes a cutting motion with his hands, lifts his whistle to his lips and gives the signal that a goal has been scored. The stadium erupts again. The university team is joyful, running back to its own half full of smiles and camaraderie. Meanwhile, the team members on the losing side of the argument throw up their arms in exasperation or dissatisfaction, but the ref's having none of that, blowing his whistle again and giving some rapid instructions with his fingers.

The complaining girls' shoulders slump and they turn around and bend over, lowering their shorts and underwear to their knees while the referee takes out a black, teardrop shaped paddle, much smaller than the yellow one he carries for bookable offences. One smack on each cheek of the argumentative footballers is enough to warn them that dissention will not be tolerated and then they straighten themselves up so that play can resume, nervous glances at their coaching team making you think that spankings for poor performance are not limited to the university squad.

"Probably they're not used to officials being that strict," Julia shouts in your ear. "It's surprising how the college ethos rubs off on people, even when they're just visiting." She grins at you and you return the smile.