Why do football managers at press conferences act like
they’re discussing a massive humanitarian incident with thousands of
casualties?
They take it far too seriously. IT’S JUST A FUCKING GAME. There’s only so much levity they can add to proceedings – a pratfall would be out of place – but there’s no need to approach things so somberly. Nobody died. Unless, of course, they did.
Another thing I hate about football is the sound of the crowd. There are plenty of intelligent, sensible well-meaning people who follow it (including my parents, who’ve have had season tickets for Spurs since the late 60s), but cram them into a stadium and collectively, they emit the vapid drone of ignorami; all open, brainless vowel sounds and faux Cockney. At worst, their chants turn racist and homophobic. A football crowd can be an angry, ignorant, threatening place.
(Perhaps it’s just me. I'm an unsporty wimp.)
I was recently travelling back from a comedy gig in Brighton on the same day that Brighton & Hove Albion played Hull at home in an FA Cup match. I timed my arrival at the station to coincide perfectly with pub closing time; inevitably, the forecourt was packed with pissed supporters. I managed to find an empty carriage on the train, but until we pulled away, I was incredibly tense. I could hear the supporters’ chants getting angrier and more aggressive, and silently prayed that they’d catch another London train. I didn’t fancy being stabbed on the journey back. Another time would be fine, but not then. Why do they have to be so intimidating? You never get this with tennis.
I scored a goal against Peter Shilton once, when he came to my junior school. His massive hands were no match for me. I bet he struggles to find a pair of marigolds with a comfy fit.
They take it far too seriously. IT’S JUST A FUCKING GAME. There’s only so much levity they can add to proceedings – a pratfall would be out of place – but there’s no need to approach things so somberly. Nobody died. Unless, of course, they did.
Another thing I hate about football is the sound of the crowd. There are plenty of intelligent, sensible well-meaning people who follow it (including my parents, who’ve have had season tickets for Spurs since the late 60s), but cram them into a stadium and collectively, they emit the vapid drone of ignorami; all open, brainless vowel sounds and faux Cockney. At worst, their chants turn racist and homophobic. A football crowd can be an angry, ignorant, threatening place.
(Perhaps it’s just me. I'm an unsporty wimp.)
I was recently travelling back from a comedy gig in Brighton on the same day that Brighton & Hove Albion played Hull at home in an FA Cup match. I timed my arrival at the station to coincide perfectly with pub closing time; inevitably, the forecourt was packed with pissed supporters. I managed to find an empty carriage on the train, but until we pulled away, I was incredibly tense. I could hear the supporters’ chants getting angrier and more aggressive, and silently prayed that they’d catch another London train. I didn’t fancy being stabbed on the journey back. Another time would be fine, but not then. Why do they have to be so intimidating? You never get this with tennis.
I scored a goal against Peter Shilton once, when he came to my junior school. His massive hands were no match for me. I bet he struggles to find a pair of marigolds with a comfy fit.