SNIPPETS FROM A SPORTING LIFE
It is Saturday today and after a long week is is good to get into something less serious and more sporting. I will scribble a few things about football. But first why football?

My school years, or what I remember of those years, were times of hell and fury or times of boredom and waste. I was never big enough to play good rugby but somehow the school kept me in their team. Damn them. it was hell. The "up and under" stuff hurt. Too many times I stood waiting for that high ball to descend into my shaking arms as the mob rushed towards me. Courage I used to say to myself. Get ready for that clean catch and dig that booted heel into the turf. But always, if I remember, the mob crashed down on me before I had that safe heel dug dowm. Black and blue and bones crunched by the mob. Later I managed to get transfered to the wing. Thought I could dodge and out run those hefty types. Same again. Crunch. Black and blue. So rugger is not really a good happening for my Saturday
Cricket? I guess OK when batting or bowling but for the rest total boredom. Never understood why those white clothes were necessary either because they always turned out with green stains or red-ball stains. The food was also over-rated. So football it will be today.
My earliest memories of football are simple and wonderful. Lads just playing on the grass with the basic minimum of equipment. Just one ball needed. Goal posts were clothes thrown into two piles at each end of the field. Later I was to play for money as a semi-professional and that helped my beer consumption stay at a reasonable level during university. But after two broken legs it was advisable to quit or just watch. I did that for awhile until I became fed up wuth the loutish behaviour of too many.
As a young child going to a football game would be a social happening. Young kids would be passed down to the front on the heads and shoulders of the big men. They helped us see the game that way. Alas that sociable behaviour vanished. But there were fun memories of loutish behaviour too.
A young university student, a female, asked me to take her to a football game. I was the gentleman, of course. She was a rather sheltered woman more into "posh" things than football. Anyway she merged with the standing crowd and began to talk loudly in a posh accent. This was a mistake. After many awkward looks from around I knew I ought to advise her to be quiet. Too late. She turned to me and said : " Somebody has pissed on my legs". I escorted her away and home. She never spoke to me again.

Oh another memory too with my own loutish behaviour this time. I was playing at right back and the winger from the opposing team was well known. He was fast and agile and very good at fooling defenders. The manager gave me orders. Take that winger out as soon as possible he said to me. he is too dangerous. So I began the game in a hard way. I gave little or no joy to that fast super winger and I was there, at him, even before the ball reached him. I was, at it were, biting his legs. But according to one spectator from the stands I was a "paid monkey". He rushed out from the stands and over the rails and attcked me shouting "monkey...monkey". The winger smiled at me. I had been biten now and in front of the spectators. My poor image! Humbled.

What else do you expect on a Saturday?