Rudan, the Western Sydney Wanderers coach, has blown a couple of gaskets this week after his team's 4-3 loss to Macarthur Bulls last Sunday.

First he took aim at referee Adam Kersey after the game, declaring "there is a bit of history between myself and him" and implying that may have influenced key decisions.

Given that during his meltdown Rudan declared his club had a "stigma" and he was "sick and tired of the decisions that continually go against us", it was hardly surprising that he was promptly issued a show-cause notice from A-League HQ.

But even that did not appear to temper his rage, and during another press conference on Wednesday, he fired a separate broadside at head office, singling out the head of referees, Nathan Magill, and A-League commissioner Nick Garcia for special mention.

Now I'm in no position to argue with Rudan's less-than-flattering appraisal of the A-League's status quo, because I have voiced similar opinions myself.

But his criticism of referee Kersey raised a question I have been pondering for some time: is there any code that treats its whistle-blowers with less respect than soccer?

It seems like almost every week, every game, the losing coach after an A-League clash will bemoan some line-ball decision from either the ref or VAR that they felt robbed their team.

The same coaches stand on the sideline every week, berating the fourth official and linesmen, either while the match is in progress or as they leave the pitch at half-time.

Players, meanwhile, react to any free kick or penalty decision by immediately surrounding the referee and bombarding him with verbal abuse.

This is hardly unique to the A-League.

All around the world, it seems, referees are regarded as fair game if the result doesn't go your way, a view apparently shared by players, coaches, fans and even executives.

It was only a matter of weeks ago that the president of a Turkish Super Lig (top-division) club was forced to resign after jumping the fence and bashing the referee senseless, while the club's supporters reportedly cheered him on.

Fortunately a League One (third-tier) English ref was able to escape a similar fate last month after a pitch invader, who had apparently lost his mind over a penalty decision, chased him until security intervened.

All of which might make for interesting highlights on a nightly sports bulletin but, realistically, is the ugly side of the so-called beautiful game.

It is such an ingrained culture that, as he wobbled around on L-plates and training wheels, the Newcastle Jets' new A-League Women's coach, Ryan Campbell, felt comfortable enough after his second game in charge to complain that the ref missed a red card and a "definite off-side" goal in his team's recent 2-0 loss to Central Coast.

The reality of the situation is that, on a global scale, the A-League is never likely to be much more than a bottom feeder.

But in terms of changing perceptions and ensuring respect for referees, it could easily become a world leader.

The first step will be to embrace this new plan for a "blue card" sin-bin system for errant players. Start giving them 10 minutes on the sidelines and see how many want to continue mouthing off.

Just as importantly, it's time to crack down on coaches who make derogatory comments about match officials after games.

The NRL has largely eliminated this scourge with hefty fines. A $25,000 penalty is a significant deterrent.

I'd go even further. For repeat offenders - which Rudan is - the A-League should consider not only sideline bans but deducting competition points from teams.

Sometimes long-term, recurring problems are easily resolved. Marko Rudan would be the perfect starting point if A-League officials want to draw a line in the sand.