Mr B comments that he finds it very amusing to see how I have embraced the role of Enthusiastic Footie Supporter.
the word “amusing” that irks me. Why isn’t he amazed, dumbfounded, pleasantly surprised even? But, no, he is “amused.” I am, officially, a Laughing Stock.
Mr B made this comment as we were preparing for bed last night after a most enjoyable Footie Evening with the Neighbours. It is a while since the four of us gathered together in our living room to watch Brighton & Hove Albion strut
their stuff on a football pitch which possibly made us enjoy it all the more. We were, indeed, a Merry Gathering.
It was a fairly late arrangement and I realised,
too late, that I was somewhat short on the beer stakes. There was a goodly number of cans in the fridge outside in the garage but when I checked them they were all “best before the end of 2014.” Which seemed (i) rather a long time ago; and (ii)
not worth risking the health of our neighbour. There was one solitary bottle which was in date so I had to hope this would be enough. Fortunately our neighbour reassured me, kindly, that on the basis that it was what he termed a “school night”,
he wouldn’t be imbibing more than a single bottle anyway. I sent up a silent thank you to the organisers of the FA Cup for arranging this particular match on a Wednesday evening.
We had also agreed that we would eat dinner at our respective homes before congregating at ours for the match. Once again this was a last minute decision which was just as well because I had already put our dinner in the oven. Mr B,
I have to admit, was not party to this agreement - he would undoubtedly have preferred to eat something Takeaway Related rather than whatever I had decided to cook. I don’t think this is a reflection on my culinary abilities. Though it might be.
So there we were, the four of us, cosily ensconced in our living room watching “our” team trot out onto the pitch at West Bromwich Albion. They looked very, well,
yellow in their away kit, resembling (we all decided) slightly over-ripe bananas. Bananas in Pyjamas! we trilled. Actually the menfolk didn’t trill anything of the sort, Mr B, in particular, being above such frivolity. Our neighbour explained that football
clubs insist their teams wear all their various team kits at least once, in order to be able to sell replica kits to small boys for outrageous sums of money. Presumably, that is, to small boys who want to look like over-ripe bananas. Let me warn them, it isn’t
A Good Look.
On the TV screen, the names of the players who would be starting the match and those who would be on the bench. I was disappointed to find that the
majority of players trotting out in Dayglow Yellow were unknown to me, which was a great pity because I had diligently studied the players in previous matches, on past footie evenings and had become quite knowledgeable. Indeed I could even recognise players
without distinguishing bushy beards, fancy pony tails or exotic tattoos.
There has been a lot of football on TV of late and on the grounds that if you can’t
beat ‘em you may as well join ‘em, I have joined Mr B in front of the screen on times without count. Super Saturday? I was there. Marvellous Monday, Tremendous Tuesday, Wonderful Wednesday, Thrilling Thursday, Fantastic Friday - okay, I made those
up but I’m sure the Powers That Be will be pleased with my helpful alliterative suggestions, offered freely and for nothing. Whatever the day of the week (school night or not a school night) I was there, taking it all in, trying to second guess which
substitutes would be called from their place on the bench, who was taking a dive and who was breaching the off-side rule (I always think of that great scene in The Full Monty where the would-be Chippendales are taught their moves by reference to the way to
catch opponents off-side.) As you can tell, I am able to draw on vast reserves of random knowledge to make sense of the totally senseless.
The match went to extra
time. The Seagulls won and go through to the fifth round of the Cup. I am sure I could write a credible report of the whole match, footie pundit that I am. I would have tried very hard not to mention the over-ripe banana kit.
Except that I had to write the Daily Blog so the football fraternity will have to manage without my words of wisdom on yesterday’s example of the beautiful game.
Thank goodness for that, says Mr B.