I realised recently that I have been watching far too much football, been thinking far too much about football and certainly been writing too much about football. My other blogs have been neglected – an indication that life has been somewhat narrow lately…
Just before Easter I handed in my “gorilla” (code in certain circles for dissertation) for supervision; soon it will be groomed and put in a cage. While struggling with it, hiding from the world and basically just going for walks and smelling the world in my spare time, football, as ever, nicely filled up what remained of the days. I suppose it is an obsessive compulsive disorder, but a nice one. When I have had time for nothing else I’ve always kept in touch with the news and the progression of “my boys”, as I always will. It’s about a special brand of love.
But when, as of late, “spare time” is filled with little else proportions start getting muddled. I am a football fan of the nerdy, analytical variety – I love my team and I will analyse what happens, regardless of result. I can feel pride and joy about a display of nice football, even when the team is defeated. A win makes me deliriously happy while a defeat usually just brings out the analytical mind. Some sadness, never anger. On Thursday, however, the defeat really did get me down. As ever, I felt sorry for the lads rather than angry with them for not winning, but it made me genuinely sad. And I realised that I needed my proportions back, just as I realised, again, that people who live only for this can’t do that. They will grieve the loss of the UEFA cup longer than I will.
The sun is shining, and Friday was a great day – I cycled around for an hour before meeting a dear friend. We sat in outside in the sun, drank copious amounts of orange juice and talked about life; life as in all the rest of it. She has no interest in sport and I love that. Spring, we came to realise, is a state of mind as well as a season – and what a nice one it is. Sitting as we did on the main square of this little city, we observed people in a spring state of
mind, milling around and happily taking in the blessing that is a Friday afternoon in sunny April. Where did all these beautiful people come from? wondered she; I suppose we are all more beautiful in the spring. Because we smile more?
Later on I indulged in another favourite pastime with some other dear friends: whisky and beer tasting. Yes, it is quite possible to be very nerdy about alcohol as well. And my nose, one of the main characters in this blog, is of course delighted with the worlds that a glass of whisky has on offer. One will smell like a beach on a windy day, another like a stable full of old leather – my unfettered nose can find a narrative in the glass, along with the taste notes.
So in the end, I got my proportions right back. Still a bit sad, but hardly devastated. After all, if the result in a football game is the only thing that makes you sad you’re doing quite well. And if Roy Keane can say “It’s just a game of football”, then so can I. And of course mean it every bit as much as he does.
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