Saturday, December 09, 2006

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?

6 comments:

anticant said...

I've always loathed team games, though I enjoy watching tennis and snooker. One game of cricket or football is exactly like another to me - all so boring. I went to a school where the headmaster was a cricket fanatic [amateur county player]. The school boasted that all outside-class activities were voluntary, but actually everyone was 'expected' to participate in games or gym. This was an early introduction to adult humbug! I managed to get myself appointed school cricket team scorer, which at least meant that I didn't have to play and went on away matches. But oh the tedium of it all.....

zola a social thing said...

They would not let me be the scorer.
I could not add up or concentrate.
I was postmodern before that ever became fashionable.

And ... those awful bits of bread with green stuff inside.... ugh.

toby lewis said...

Very interesting, Zola. Proof that football journalism doesn't need to feel like a kick in the head.

Poor woman. That kind of clan behaviour is why I have a general loathing for the popularity of football even though I quite enjoyed playing the game. It also annoys me that as an Englishman, to many European foreigners I meet, the English are generally associated with being hooligans. Why does it encourage such violence when it is a relatively low-contact sport? Also the importance accorded to the Beckhams of this world annoys me.

zola a social thing said...

Well Toby : In those days football had standing room only and lots of beer. Pissing in the stands was common. But as for that poor woman I tried my best and failed. I should not have taken her to the "real end" where the action happens. But she did ask. She insisted that i intruduce her to working class football.

As for "English football hooligans" I agree with you. Stereotyping is usually wronheaded. But it must be said that the "Brits" have fueled that fire all too often.

Once at a match, some many years ago, rocks and stones were thrown over high fences to hit the heads of everyday folk just there to enjoy the game. I thought then, in those years, that this game was no longer that game i thought it was.

But I was also involved I guess. Take that winger out quickly said my manager and I did it.
Ooopps sounds like Nazi times and just doing the job and following orders.
I am not clean myself.

toby lewis said...

Not to worry, it is the problem with the herd mentality. It is very easy to be sucked in when a group postures in such a macho. I imagine all of us have been guilty of similar lapses of decency in our past. You can learn more from what you do wrong, sometimes, than from what you do right.

zola a social thing said...

Thanks Toby : Now i can out a sin again. great stuff.
Bring on that saturday night I say.

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