The Joy Of Football

I have been becoming progressively more disenchanted with professional football in the last few years. It's difficult actually to pin it down to one thing but I am increasingly finding club football to be more of an ordeal to be endured rather than an entertainment to be enjoyed. The last few times I've watched a game on the telly I've found myself irritated by the lack of commitment from the multi-millionaire players and have found the fans to be seriously detached from the reality of what is going on. I sat through the midweek League Cup game between Manchester City and Liverpool largely bored and generally annoyed at the aimless excuses for professional sportsmen on display. The fact that the main talking point was whether one of the players should have been sent off merely for having the gumption to win the ball in open play just about sums up the level that this dross has fallen to. At least, on this occasion, I did sit through to the end of the game.

On several occasions I have simply switched the TV off. I've largely taken to avoiding the Old Firm games which have descended into pointless needle matches watched by amoeba-minded sectarian bigots but other matches fare little better. I watched the last Liverpool vs Manchester United game for a while. I was singularly annoyed at the constant gamesmanship in lieu of any kind of footballing skill but what really forced me to switch off was the chanting of the supposed "fans" of these two clubs. Apparently, it is deemed appropriate to sing in joy at those who died at Hillsborough stadium in 1989 or at Munich airport in 1958. What kind of twisted mind actually takes pleasure at this? I can remember in the aftermath of Hillsborough that it was two dyed-in-the-wool Manchester United fans that organised a collection for the bereaved at my workplace. Whatever the footballing differences they felt a kinship with fellow North-Westerners and fellow football fans - and clearly they realised that the state of safety at football grounds could just as easily have affected their club. These are the real Manchester people and not the glory hunting bigots with no sense of their club's history. The chanting about the Munich disaster by alleged Liverpool fans is even more unbelievable as anyone with even a passing knowledge of their own club would know that Matt Busby was a much loved and highly respected former Liverpool club captain and was even offered the assistant managers job in the post war years. Real Liverpool people were shocked and saddened by the loss of so many young men back in '58.

The thing is, I still do enjoy football and have been trying to pass this love of the game on to my kids. The problem is who, in their right mind, would want their children mixed up in this cauldron of hatred. I have been wanting to take my oldest boy, Raymond, along to a match for a while and I have bought tickets to see the Olympic football at Hampden Park in the summer. I think international football still retains some of the joys of football simply because the qualification to play does not lie with who has the largest wallet to buy the best players but on the simple criteria of where one was born. However, I didn't want to take him along for his first game to the national stadium without seeing a match on a smaller scale. As he has just had his tenth birthday I thought it was about time that he had his first baptism of football so we headed off to Ochilview Park to see Stenhousemuir take on Forfar in a Division Two match.

It is actually the first time I've been along to see Stenny at home since we moved back to Larbert. Over the years I have lived within walking distance of quite a few clubs: Liverpool (and Everton, for that matter), Cardiff, Newcastle and Celtic amongst them. Stenhousemuir are very much on the smaller scale of things but the atmosphere is warm and friendly. This is a club where families go along to watch the game together and away fans are free to mingle with the home support without any hint of aggravation. I have to say that I have actually set off to see more Stenhousemuir games over the years than I actually got to watch. The pitch used to be very prone to waterlogging but the new plastic pitch has put an end to that and it was probably very welcome yesterday in the freezing weather. The game itself had, at least, some action and it looked like it might be a day to remember as they took the lead just before half time only to have Forfar draw even a minute later.

I though it was important to show Raymond all the rituals of match day (although I forgot to buy a match programme) so we queued up at half time for a Scotch pie and a coffee (or at least a can of juice for Raymond) and settled down for the second half with a good view of the Forfar goal. Somehow, the action seemed to heat up in the second half (which was just as well as I really should have put on a second jumper) and it looked like there was a second Stenhousemuir goal shortly after until it was ruled out for a supposed handball - no one could see this apart from the linesman, I suppose he did have a better view but the general consensus was that he should take the advice of his shirt sponsor and visit Specsavers. Nevertheless, Stenhousemuir did take the lead and it looked like Raymond would start his football watching days with a victory until the 80th minute when Forfar drew level. Never mind - a draw seemed like a fair result until the last minute when Forfar grabbed a winner. Well, you can't win them all.

The odd thing is, I didn’t mind too much. Forfar won fair and square and I really enjoyed the afternoon out - as did Raymond (apart from needing a thicker coat and another pair of socks). Aside from the general positive atmosphere, the thing I really enjoyed was the players. No-one tried to dive for a penalty or tried to get an opponent sent of by feigning death for having been breathed on. Some of the pass-and-move may have turned to hoof-it-and-hope on occasion but there was no sense that any player was giving any less than total commitment. There were no prima donnas. There were no imaginary cards waived and the only serious foul, in which a player was accidentally elbowed in the face, resulted in an apology and a handshake. Whilst the loss may have been disappointing I cannot begrudge Forfar their victory as they played by the rules and in the spirit of the game and won on their own merits. Above all, I enjoyed, for a change, seeing a display of sportsmanship rather than gamesmanship. These 22 footballers combined may not earn as much as a single English Premiership player but they could certainly teach them a lesson or two in how the game should be played.

So maybe that is the key to the Joy of Football: the players should be earning less than I am.