Wait until next year

Thank goodness for Proper Football. Cup finals and international tournaments are all well and good as spectacles but they aren’t real football. My ideal match doesn’t take place in a gigantic stadium, it isn’t soundtracked by piped-in hi-energy crowd-directing tunes, isn’t played by players cynical and skillful enough to squeeze the joy and unpredictability out of the game. My ideal match takes place in the sort of ground I can wander around, can enjoy a pint in, where I can queue for a burger and watch the match simultaneously, where the smell of the onions is coupled with the spray of Deep Heat, where the soundtrack is a panicked cry at a dawdling centre-half, a grumble from the touchline, a kid kicking his own ball against a fence, oblivious. Read the rest of this entry »