Football was even talked about when it could be your last conversation.
"Three Tommies sat in a trench one day,
Discussing the war in the normal way.
They talked of mud and they talked of the Hun,
Of what was to do and what had been done.
They talked about Rum...
But they point that they argued from post back to pillar,
Was whether Notts County could beat Aston Villa."
Football is part and parcel of old and modern day Britain. Fans turned out in their many thousands, crammed into unsuitably small terraces to watch their heroes take the field. These were ordinary men who often held down another job and lived just down the road from you or even next door.
They were generally men from ordinary beginnings, inflated to hero status, but preserved their wholesome attitude, integrity and rarely would you find a player with air and graces and a feeling of superiority. In short, most of the local heroes at the very top were a completely different breed to the current football player - Yes, John Terry, I am talking about you and your fellow professionals.Having read the rather excellent My Father and Other Working Class Football Heroes by Gary Imlach, you can see why football was embedded as an essential ingredient in English society, during the golden era. Professional footballers went off to war, covered by ageing pros to warm their boots, fell and died fighting for the King. Can you imagine Rio or 'JT' doing the same?
Football nowadays is a greedy sport. I used to love it. I still love Brighton & Hove Albion, but football as a whole has grown into a gruesome monstrosity. I am not sure how comfortable I would feel supporting a club that pays a player more in the space of 10 days than our premier, Gordon Brown (ignoring whether or not you think he is a doing a good job!), earns in a year.
I would rather not contribute towards some rotating alloys for a materialistic thug with a limited footballing ability, earning 20 times the amount a nurse or entry level teacher.
Fans are being priced out of live (in the flesh) football. People are turning their backs on their local club simply because it is easier to stay seated in the armchair and follow a team courtesy of Sky television.
Day-by-day my dislike for professional football grows at an alarming rate. The whole Premiership bubble makes me sick to the bottom of my stomach.
The 39th farcical game, allowing the brand to be spread across the world, was obviously about sharing the love of the game and nothing to do with filling the pockets of those that are already bulging and splitting.
'Super Sundays' for the best league in the world, encouraging those who do not know better to spend the day glued to the sofa. £50m for finishing bottom of the top flight with a guaranteed £24m parachute payment to soften the blow.
Hours before a potential winding up order and deadline for Rotherham United, their 'headline' was a little subtitle, the main news being that Man Utd's Wes Brown was on the verge of signing a multi-million pound deal. A community was on the verge of losing their football team and various news sources were focusing on a contract for that donkey.
'Stevie G' holding out for a new contract with Liverpool. "I am not willing to sign yet as I want to concentrate on the game itself". Cue a fortnight of flirting with other clubs and an eventual £20,000 a week pay rise offer. "It has always been about Liverpool. No-one else".
Phil Gartside, of Bolton Wanderers, wanting a two tier Premiership with no relegation from the lower tier. A closed shop.
Restless 20 year olds not content with their £2,000 per week salary, despite giving up edukation (sic) at the tender age of 14.
A game run by buffoons at the very highest level with corruption galore across the globe.
An (Ex-)England captain with no regard for anyone but himself - I won't list his numerous misdemeanours.
Fit and proper persons tests for Premier League ownership that apparently ignores abuse of the Human Rights Act.
It's ludicrous. A world away from the happy smiling faces of African children making do with a ball made from a multitude of plastic bags and some twine. Imagine what the £2000 spent on a Newcastle United heated substitutes seat could do for a little village of keen footballers without access to clean water?
To be fair, I am sure that the footballers earning obscene wages do have some links to charitable work and do sign off the odd cheque. However, they could do so much more.
Generally, money and footballers are an unhappy marriage in more ways than one.
Ulises De La Cruz did not forget where he came from. He went that step further and set up 'Friends of FundeCruz' in which he donated 10% of his wages. This money was spent supplying basic needs of his Ecuadorian village. He was later named a UNICEF ambassador.
http://ulisesdelacruz.org/
Even a pantomime villain in the shape of Craig Bellamy has set up a foundation and poured some of his money into the fund to give some Sierra Leonians a fighting chance after years of civil war and oppression. Liverpool FC refused to insure him, but he went anyway and has not looked back.
http://www.craigbellamyfoundation.org/
Bah. I lost my train of thought after the trench poem.
Hopefully this doesn't come across as being a jealous rant.
Quote of the Day: "Many men, of course, became extremely rich, but this was perfectly natural and nothing to be ashamed of as no-one was really poor, at least no-one worth speaking of" - Douglas Adams
Word of the Day: Cagamosis - An unhappy marriage.
No comments:
Post a Comment