That Football eh!!!

24 11 2008

I could not suppress a thought after the game on Saturday, why, oh why, do I go to football? It’s a bloody waste of time; standing around in the cold to see our team lose, that’s the behaviour of idiots.

Football is basically two groups of millionaire idiots kicking a bag of air around whilst wearing clothes made by kids in Indian sweatshops emblazoned with ads for things you don’t use. Watch as they become apoplectic at the contemptible figure of the referee over some trifle or other, watch as they kiss the badge on a different shirt every year, listen as they appear on TV speaking in monosylable words, listen to the dissection of those insights by journalists for days on end.

Then the fans, what a bunch of tossers. A big fat bunch of socially inept troglydytes drinking, chanting obscenities, gurning for tv and painting their fat faces. They actually pay for clothes made by kids in Indian sweatshops emblazoned with ads for things they don’t use. They actually watch these players speaking monosylyable words and are enraptured enough to debate the merits of them with their dullard friends. Then they’ll phone tossers on the radio to share what’s in the space between their ears. Then watch them act patriotically and xenophobically when they need arises.

Then you actually play the game and what happens. You’ll be playing against a group of people who’ve forgotten that they don’t possess skill, speed or balance. You’ll be clattered, you’ll be annoyed, you’ll be frustrated. You’ll be angry at your team mates for not doing what you want, you’ll be angry at your opponents for trying too much, you’ll be angry  at yourself for even bothering in the first place.

I hated football, yes hated, because I remembered the beauty of football earlier today. I remembered that when you play and score, it’s indescribable elation. When you play in defence and block or save the ball, it’s satisfying before words. When you watch there’s the  base aesthetic pleasure of watching the ball move quickly between players. There’s the joyfulness of watching goals from 30 yard shots, overhead kicks, graceful volleys. The beauty will overcome cynicism. Just watch these.

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