Finding Football

There is an old saying: "Football is a gentleman’s game played by hooligans, and rugby is a hooligans’ game played by gentlemen". Having been to two rugby games since I moved here and now two football games in the past month, I can whole-heartedly agree with this. Football players (and their fans) are a special breed of human – but I kind of like it.

I was very spoiled for my first live football game ever. My magazine (www.employeebenefits.co.uk) is doing an employer profile for our January issue on the Manchester City Football Club and the interviewee graciously offered two tickets to a match. I was already going to be up in Manchester for a conference so my friend Nicola, who was conducting the interview, invited me to be her plus-one. Despite having grown up in the UK, she had also never attended a match. The much-hyped Manchester derby (MCFC versus Manchester United) is not a bad place to loose your football virginity.

Amped up by the excitement that had been gripping the city leading up to the big match, we visited the MCFC gift shop for some blue scarves, gloves (it was freezing!) and other paraphernalia. Also, since it was our first time and we played dumb, we managed to carry pints of beer into the stadium seats, which some rather discouraged male fans pointed out was against the rules.

The atmosphere was tangible, blue-clad fans filled the stadium, singing ‘Blue Moon’ and shouting hilarious obscenities in thick northern accents at the Man U players. About 1,000 fans of the visiting team were segregated from the rest of the enormous stadium, framed by riot police in fluorescent yellow in case things got too rowdy.

Unfortunately, they didn’t. The match was kind of boring and ended in a draw, nil-nil. The fans pouring out of the stadium did not incite brawls with one another, just begrudgingly wandered back into the city centre. I have to say, I was a little bit disappointed.

For all those Man U fans who find it questionable that I would so suddenly become a Manchester City fan, the reason is three-fold. For starters, MCFC were our hosts to a free football match. Enough said. Secondly, my cousin Colin – a Mancusian since his days as a university student in the city more than 20 years ago – is a serious fan and choosing Manchester United would be akin to betraying the family. And finally, since I live for metaphors, I have come to see the MCFC and Man U rivalry as somewhat similar to the relationship between the Ottawa Senators and Toronto Maple Leafs. At least before the team was bought by an Arab sheik and revived with lots of cash, MCFC was a true grassroots underdog up against the rich and powerful Man U. If those reasons don’t work for you, I also look much better in blue than I do in red.

Back in London, nearly a month later and about 15 degrees colder, I finally saw my local team play. Based on where I live in Islington I should, technically speaking, be an Arsenal fan. Or so I have been told. The ladies from my book club are fans and had an extra ticket for the quarter finals of the Carling Cup. Bundled up in my longjohns and big red riding hood coat – conveniently colour-coordinated to support the Red Army – I sat 20 rows up from the pitch and thoroughly enjoyed a much more thrilling match than the Manchester derby. Arsenal won 2-0 and advanced to the next round.

Though it did not include an actual football game, last week I attended a conference at the Chelsea Football Club. Between presentations on pensions, employment tribunals and sustainable businesses, I got to walk around the perimeter of the stadium. It was a cold and empty pitch but it was pretty cool nonetheless – I mean, Didier Drogba plays there.

The sport will never replace hockey for me but I am starting to realize that I do enjoy it. The players are cute, the fans are fun and the atmosphere is a thrill to be a part of.