I’ve been learning about lines of best fit and anomalies in science with our eleven year olds this half term and have derived a little amusement just hearing them trying to pronounce the word, let alone spell it. (It doesn’t take much to keep me happy).
I suppose you could say that my love of football is anomalous; an anomaly. It is incongruous amongst my other areas of interest. If I were to plot a scientific graph, it would lie either above or below my line of best fit. I’m not quite sure what my x or y criteria would be, but I like the word anomalous, the way it rolls off the tongue. (Or not).
Come to think of it, my presence in a science lesson is in itself an anomaly, so let’s stick with football where I am able to hold forth from an even playing field.
Where did this all passion for the beautiful game kick-off, then? You may well ask; I blame my mother.
Back in 1968 she let me stay up late on a school night, to watch the European Cup Final between Manchester United and Benfica on our black and white television set. Mum was keen to watch George Best play; I think she needed an ally and I was more than happy to miss bed time and oblige. Dad, who didn’t like football at all, sat behind his newspaper and emerged occasionally to cheer Benfica on, much to my annoyance. George Best scored a goal during extra time to help United lift the cup by which time I was hooked. Until he arrived on the scene, footballers looked much the same as rugby players: big and beefy. He was small and looked weedy but moved exceptionally fast with extraordinary skill. The fact that he had twinkly Irish eyes, a Beatle haircut and wore his shirt outside his shorts may also have added to his appeal, I don’t know, but it made me want a team of my own.
Mum said that however much we adored Bestie, we ought to support a team nearer home, (unlike 95% of current Man U supporters who have never even been to England, let alone Manchester), so she suggested Crystal Palace, the nearest team to us at that time. I went along with this for a while but wasn’t convinced as they never seemed to win anything.
A couple of years later, my friend Laura and I returned from a shopping trip where she had bought some hot pants in a shop called Chelsea Girl; it also happened to be the Saturday of the notorious Chelsea – Leeds FA Cup Final. Her grandfather, who ran our local pub, invited several of his regulars upstairs to watch the match once the bar had closed. Laura (wearing the hot pants) and I watched too. The men were all gunning for Leeds which made Laura and I all the more determined to cheer for Chelsea. The rest, as they say, is history. Chelsea went on to win – eventually, after a replay at Old Trafford – and I found the team I have supported ever since.
Completely co-incidentally, my husband turned out to be a faithful Chelsea fan too, so Son had no choice in the matter and for several years we went to all our team’s home games. The sight of that green, green pitch never fails to impress; the banter in the stands provides much hilarity, albeit a little blue at times.
Football can be a great leveller, and as a female, understanding the finer points of the game can be a distinct advantage, as well as providing cast -iron street cred when necessary.
A couple of years ago, while supporting a geography class of rowdy under-achieving thirteen year olds, one of our, shall we say, less engaged pupils was lolling across his desk, semi-comatose, so I suggested that he sat up properly and got on with colouring in the rivers and mountain ranges on his pre-printed world map.
He told me to eff off.
This kind of response usually results in removal from the classroom but it also involves paperwork which is a faff so I fixed him with my best icy stare and said,
“You’re going to have to do better than that if you want to insult me, Peter; I go to football every week and hear much worse,”
He looked at me; he wasn’t expecting this – I had wrong-footed him. I could see him weighing up the situation; for a moment I wasn’t sure whether or not I’d scored an own goal. I held my breath and continued staring at him. Slowly he heaved himself into a sitting position and, with what I can only describe as a rueful grin of respect, began to colour his map.
1-0 to me, then. How I love having the last word…
charactersfromthekitchen 
Oh you certainly scored a goal with that comeback, Jenny! What a great story. I love that your mother is the reason behind your love of football. My mother is the reason I love American football. When I was little and our team scored a touchdown, she’s jump up on the sofa and cheer. I loved this because my sister and I weren’t allowed to jump on furniture, except when our team scored.
Thanks Jill. I love that you were allowed to jump on the sofa, too – sometimes the situation just warrants a bit of rule breaking, doesn’t it? 🙂
While I enjoyed playing soccer (as we call it here), hockey and the like before I got too old and slow to keep up with the young folk I never developed the love of watching. I think it’s because I won’t invest the time to get to know the players and such–it’s more than just a single game. The lineups, their strengths and weakness and such are just as important.
I will say, though, that I liked how you came back to the student and figured goals were scored all around 🙂
Well, I’m definitely an armchair sports fan. Girls didn’t play football in my school days – just hockey which I’m afraid I hated – smelly boots and bruised ankles: no thanks.
Interestingly, I got on rather well with that student after the incident – in fact, I developed quite a soft spot for him 🙂
I love your story. And that it was your mother, not your dad, who got you into it….interesting! The fact that you told the story of your pupil in those terms is great too: BTW, have you gotten your husband back (he was smirking) for his employee blaming your husband’s dented car on you?
Mum is quite keen on watching most sports – tennis is her favourite. Dad wasn’t interested at all, but he was a master at winding us all up – a bit like my husband, who, yes, I reckon I got him back over the car episode just by blogging about it! 🙂
🙂
Ah the great Gary Sprake moment. I remember it well as a Leeds supporter in those days. I think David Harvey played in the replay? Sprake was amazing – brilliant one moment, a clown the next. He threw the ball into his own net against Liverpool once. The youngest keeper for Wales – just 17 years old on debut I seem to recall, which was why I followed Leeds. He was the Welsh Connection. I still went to Edgar Street each week though. Best was magnificent. Lived his life in overdrive. So much better drunk than Gascoigne. He had flare.
A very nice put down of young Peter. Kudos.
Yes, it was David Harvey. I don’t remember the Liverpool incident but obviously I was pleased that Sprake managed to have one of his moments at Wembley that day. I don’t think the pitch helped – it had been churned up previously by the Horse of the Year Show – can you imagine that happening now!
Best was wonderful on and off the pitch and, alcoholism aside – he was a great chat show guest – unless you happened to be Terry Wogan!
Haha! Love how you sorted that kid! Tough teacher!
It could’ve gone horribly wrong and I’d have talked myself into a confrontational situation – happily it didn’t… and I’m not that tough, honest! 🙂
Well, you`re more smart than tough. And smart enough to know that just being tough never works! Anyway, I love it.
I think students like it when you are tough with them ie firm and definite. This is my worst failing – I can waver if I am unsure (lucky I am not a teacher, but maybe that would have improved if I were). They also tend to respond badly to confrontation, so by taking it out of the arena of You Must Do This and You Must Not Do That it’s taking another view while still being firm.
I am sure you know all this already, but just wanted to say how impressed I was with your technique.
Crystal Palace were my nearest team growing up! I lived between South Norwood and Addiscombe.
Oh my! I spent the first two years of my life living in South Croydon!
South Croydon was regarded as posher than our neck of the woods when I was a child. When I was at junior school, there was one summer when lots of kids moved house to Shirley so their older siblings could access better schools as our local one had a horrific reputation.
Great comeback! 🙂 M loves European and would probably enjoy a good conversation with you about it!
Loves European football, that is. I’m starting to sound like Yoda …
I knew what you meant, Yoda or not! With our team playing in the Champions League, it means we get to see quite a few foreign teams on our home ground. The buzz in the stadium on those nights is extra-electric.
Epic games that Chelsea-Leeds final. The first match was rough enough but the second was brutal 🙂 As a Birmingham fan I was at the Bridge for the 3rd round match that season 😦
Oh dear. Perhaps that’s why you prefer rugby? 🙂
Chuckled all the way through this post, very entertaining. Glad the student challenge came out ok – I thought you were going to give him a yellow card.
I had to be an Arsenal fan growing up with Mugwump. Susan now enjoys football (the soccer kind) as we watched a lot of the World Cup matches, but seems to choose favourite teams based on which players she likes. What’s so cool about Ronaldo anyway? 🙂
Can’t help on the Ronaldo front, I’m afraid – Ronaldino, maybe…
Our Godson supports Arsenal and when he was about ten, my husband took him to a Chelsea-Arsenal game under strict instructions that should Arsenal score, he was to remain absolutely quiet. Of course, Arsenal did score and of course Godson automatically leapt up and shouted. Not the wisest move amongst the Chelsea hard core, but he lived to tell the tale. 😉
I was a bit of an anomaly here in the US with my love of American football. Like you, I have knowledge of the finer points of the game, and it was something that impressed my husband when we began dating in the early 90s. These days I’ve given up watching the sport. I find the athletes detestable human beings and can’t stomach the thought of giving up my hard earned money or free time to them. Football (or soccer, as it’s known here), is a hugely popular children’s and recreational sport, but it’s never taken off with the mainstream population and media. Not sure why, as the rest of the world is crazy about it.
Yes, it is interesting that America lags behind the rest of the world as far as soccer goes – I can only think of two Americans who play in our Premier League – but then from a foreign perspective, America is synonymous with baseball and American football, which is more like our game of rugby, only more padded. It’s a shame that your players are detestable. It’s true that like them, our soccer players earn huge and ridiculous salaries but, in defence of that, they are supreme athletes: they put in hours and hours of training and provide a large percentage of the population with entertainment every week. When we compare the price of a match ticket with that of a west end show or the opera, it’s comparable: just a different kind of entertainment. Some of our actors may be regarded as detestable, I reckon, but I guess it’s horses for courses.
Oh Jenny, I love this! Everything from George Best, to Chelsea Girl to hotpants. Never mind the football! You really took me back to those ‘good old days’ of watching Saturday football on the old black and white. My dad was/is a Tottenham Hotspur fan so of course so were we, except for my extended family who live near Manchester so of course it has to be Man U for them! They must be in the minority! On one of my visits back home with the kids when we lived in the States we went on a tour of Old Trafford and I ended up being talked into buying all three of them a shirt (at huge expense I might add) because apparantly had promised (in a moment of madness, obviously!)
Your comeback to your student is priceless, it should be used in a film! Jenny, my dear, you’ve got some serious street cred and you should be so proud 🙂
And really, what a girly way to choose your football team! I had no idea then who any of the players were or if they were any good – I just thought they were more attractive than their Leeds counterparts. Of course, Peter Osgood became my hero – I even had an Athena poster of him on my bedroom wall, next to Marc Bolan, naturally. My husband’s brother was/is a Spurs fan which is why Husband went for Chelsea. He used to go and stand in The Shed with all the Skinheads when he was fourteen. I don’t think his Mum realised what he was up to – she’d have had a fit!
Ha Ha! How else to choose a football team Jenny? I thought that was the only way?!! Ah yes, those Skinheads…how can we ever forget? Some things us mums are never meant to know and just as well… 😉