MANCHESTER United 1 Arsenal 2, FA Cup 6th round ten days ago and one participant absolutely, unequivocally outstanding. “Excellent,” said The Times, “splendid,” thought the Telegraph, man of the match agreed the oft-curmudgeonly Mail.

Then, wholly unsolicited, an email arrived here from former FIFA and World Cup referee George Courtney. “Michael Oliver has set the bar up in the stratosphere for brave, intuitive, instinctive and correct officiating,” he wrote.

Michael Oliver was the referee.

He was 30 last month, is already on the FIFA panel and in the normal way of things isn’t allowed to share blow-by-blow accounts with Her Majesty’s press. There’s no restriction on his dad, though.

Clive Oliver, 52, was himself a Football League referee, had charge of the 2009 League Two play-off final at Wembley – chip off the old bloke, the lad had the League One final the following day – and is now chief executive of Northumberland FA, based on the coast road out of Newcastle.

A photograph of Michael in FIFA shirt sits atop a trophy cabinet in his office. Two peas in an Acme Thunderer could hardly be more alike. “It’s been the same from the day he was born,” says dad. “Right from the start people were calling him Young Clive. No one could ever suggest that he might have been adopted.”

Nor might any disgruntled fan chant the familiar “Where’s your father?” doggerel without the very clear answer that the referee’s father is resolutely behind him.

Clive had watched the big match on television at St George’s Park, the newish national football centre in Staffordshire, in the company of other senior football figures from around the country.

“A lot of people came up afterwards to say how well Michael had done,” he recalls. “The FA folk were particularly nice; it’s their cup, after all.”

CLIVE played – “not very well” – in the Northern Alliance, sustained a serious knee injury when he was 28 and perforce underwent the same operation 18 months later. “After that I marked the card myself. I loved football: you could never question my enthusiasm or commitment, it was just the quality that was missing.”

He became a referee at 30. Ten years later he was in the Football League middle.

Young Michael was an altogether brighter prospect, had played schools football for Northumberland and at Premiership academy level when, aged just 13, he came home from school one night and announced that he was stopping playing. It seemed a remarkably mature decision.

“He was always ahead of himself in terms of maturity,” says Clive. “It had all become a bit too intense for him and, of course, I supported his decision.

“He took to golf instead but by his fourteenth birthday he’d sat a refereeing course and was doing his first junior games. By he was 15 or 16 it was clear that he had something – he had the potential but he had to deliver it.”

At 19 he was refereeing on the Northern League, the following season an assistant referee in the Football League, at 21 the Football League’s youngest-ever referee and had charge of the Conference North play-off final.

A month before his 25th birthday he was also the youngest referee to be appointed to a Premier League game though postponement and injury delayed his debut until Birmingham City v Blackburn Rovers, 25 years and 182 days. Last August he refereed the FA Community Shield match between Arsenal and Manchester City, this Sunday he’ll be back for the FA Trophy final.

He’s an only child, always keen on ball games. “It was all about hand-to-eye co-ordination,” says Clive. “It didn’t matter what the game was, Michael wanted to play it.

“We’d go on holiday and be forever playing table tennis. We’d come home and he’d have beaten me 65 games to 63.”

He was also a quick learner. “Michael was always very good at listening and learning, and I hope that I always was able to teach him something. Ninety nine per cent of refereeing is about managing the game, in addition to applying the laws.

“For me man management is his strongest quality. He works really well with people, respects them equally on and off the field whether they’re the chairman or the tea lady. It doesn’t matter what the game is, he’ll prepare in the same way. That’s respect, too.”

The lad also seems to smile quite a lot. “I know,” says the NFA chief executive, “I don’t know where he gets it from.”

SO at a time when Premiership referees are under ever-increasing scrutiny, can it be wholly coincidental that the men generally reckoned the top two – Michael Oliver and Mark Clattenberg – both learned their trade in the Northern League?

“It’s a really good grounding and Michael’s really well grounded,” says his dad. “The quality is high because so many really good players don’t want to travel huge distances to play at a similar level. I genuinely believe it’s one of the strongest leagues around, and that’s why referees get such a sound education.”

Among those currently officiating in the Northern League first division is 25-year-old Lucy May, who Michael marries in June. They met on a referees’ training course. “Lucy’s a very good referee, very intelligent and a good communicator,” says her future father-in-law. “She knows Michael has to be away a lot, and she understands that.”

At first he watched Michael whenever he could, now he’s a less frequent observer. “It was a conscious decision. When he got onto the Football League I was on the same league at the same level. When I went to watch, people wanted to talk about me, not him. I wanted him to build his own expectations.”

His wife’s now a keen spectator, too. “She didn’t know what colour the cards were or what shape the ball was but now she absolutely, genuinely loves the game. She’ll go to matches at Bedington or Ashington or somewhere and listen to the old codgers talking. She watches through a referee’s eyes.”

The difference is that she doesn’t take well to criticism of her son. “Having a refereeing background helps you to understand the emotions of the game, but my wife watches from a totally different perspective.

“She finds it very, very difficult if someone is being critical of Michael. It was probably worse at junior level because there it can be more personal.”

Father and son still spend hours talking football – not always refereeing – and still play golf together, too. Michael plays off eight. “He’s a bandit,” says his dad. “I hit the ball more than he does, so I should win, but apparently that’s not how it works.”

So what now for the man who raised the bar into the stratosphere? “I would love to see him officiate in a major world tournament, but now he’s in competition with a lot of other very good international referees.

“It’s a cliché, but more than anything else I just want him to be happy. That’s what any dad would say, isn’t it?”

ABOUT ten minutes into the train journey home, the thought occurs that I’ve never asked Clive Oliver if he’s proud of his only son. About three seconds after that. it occurs that the question would wholly have been superfluous.