Tuesday, September 4, 2012

Watching the Football

On our last Saturday in London, we went to the football. I was not sure about this whole idea. You see, I've never been a big 'sport person'. Lacking a certain level of coordination, and having basically no ball skills to speak of, it was never something that really appealed to me.

I tried gymnastics and synchronised swimming for while, but, to be honest, I was pretty pathetic.

I also struggle to see the point. Why bother with chasing a ball around a field for 90 minutes? And why do men get so involved/caught up/enraptured that they can have lengthy conversations endlessly about what 'they' should have done? Always speaking like they're part of the team. I just don't get it.

But, that said, I did enjoy the 2010 World Cup when it came to South Africa. That was fun, very fun. Mostly because we made a party out of each match that we watched. So I wasn't completely against going to see a football game in London, until it started raining that is.

All the way to the stadium, it was pouring. We were walking. It was wet and cold and miserable and severely wanted to go home and go to bed, with a large cup of hot chocolate and a rom-com.

Then you find the crowds. The whole area around the stadium is overflowing. You can't get into a pub, restaurant or bar because each one is packed. We headed straight into the stadium. People were chanting, we were out of the rain, it was warm. You couldn't help but get caught up in it.

Soon we were seated, three rows from the front, in the shed end, and it was on.

I think football is always going to be the only sport that I'll really enjoy watching - I remember this from the World Cup too - it only lasts 90 minutes, there's quite a lot of action, and the players are hot. And I mean H.O.T.

They're like giants to start with, superhumans really. Who work out, all the time. They glow. And have nice bums.


So that was my football watching experience - a whole lot of action, a whole lot of war-cries, a whole lot of getting-caught-up-in-the-moment, and a whole lot of hot-bums.

Ninety minutes of a whole lot.

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