Football has united us all
Iam, what I commonly call, an armchair football fan. Now is my favourite part of the season. Everything seems to count, not just the team (or teams) you support but close monitoring of what everyone else is up to as well. I say that I’m an ‘armchair’ fan because that stops me from having to play statistic ping pong with real, super fans. Those people can quote the stats and facts all night long.
They are the sporting machines that tell you who, what, where and when for every goal, miss and red card.
They have a trophy cabinet in their head. I started my love affair with football thanks largely to my grandad. He was a quiet man who liked his garden, cycled to work on his bike, and smoked John Player Special.
He was really kind and gentle. That was until his beloved West Ham was playing.
Then a new version of Grandad appeared. Never rude or mean. However, he was animated enough on occasion to shout so loud his false teeth would come flying out.
This, for a small child, was worth waiting for on its own. Although West Ham is not my team, like so many lovers of sports, I always have an eye on them.
Like most people, I have multiple teams after my number one choice. I feel that I need to keep my grandad’s passion going.
Sounds silly to many, makes sense to me. Recently, I have been hooked on the Wrexham FC story, the Welsh club that’s been purchased and thrown into the spotlight as Hollywood stars have moved in as the new owners.
It’s not the football that’s caught my attention, it’s the way the town is connected to one of the oldest football clubs on earth. This poor and largely forgotten mining town has been struggling. There’s a documentary following the owners and how they have re-energised the club and subsequently the entire area.
They haven’t steamed in as the big movie stars, jet washed everything with cash and then looked for the highest re-sale (although it’s early days they’re two seasons in).
They have gone over and above what we normally see in this sport. The town seems like it has been reborn. The connection between football and the people is far more powerful than the position in the league.
That’s the power of sport. Not everyone can fathom it. For some, Fratton Park is merely an outdoor theatre that allows adults to kick a ball of air around. I can see that view but it’s not one I share. Sport, in this case, footy, brings people together.
It has its own invisible yet powerful energy. It provides the social oil needed for the cogs of a community to purr. It allows people who would never talk to each other to celebrate, cry, scream and then make their way home.
The most painful thing about it is the dreams it carries. The possibilities and the unpredictability can break your heart. There are many times when I wish I didn’t care but it always draws me back in.
Somehow it’s caught me in its tractor beam and it won’t let me go. It’s another year of looking at league tables and wishing that there weren't so many draws.
What’s surprising is, the pain of this season soon turns into a plan for the next. I still have my first football shirt. My mum sewed two white pieces of a handkerchief into the armpits because it was cutting in as I grew. We couldn’t afford another at the time. It’s not just a football shirt with hankies. It’s the start of a rollercoaster romance that at times is heart-breaking, other times infuriating and then there’s the best bit. When it all comes together. It’s like heaven on earth.