I have found myself wondering whether I need to ween myself off team sports of late. My two sons are avid, committed (or should be) football fans who follow their team up and down the land. The impact of a poor result on them is huge and long-lasting – such are the pressures to achieve and ‘get promoted’. The promised land always seems somehow tantalising out of reach, though…year after year.
I do understand the tribalism of football; the feeling of belonging, and the indescribable highs – but the power of big money ruined it as a sport for me long ago. I know I’ve bored all of my friends and family with my first sporting love – rugby (Union of course)…but even that has become tainted with the allure of wealth from overseas.
Despite its (mainly) unfair badge of being a rich-boys or a toff’s sport (I do admit to there being more than a fair share of range rovers, picnic hampers, and chinos with deck shoes, and polo shirts worn with collars up however), it is still the poor relation of football. The decisions being made in both sports are predicated on increasing income, not the enjoyment of the game, and certainly not for the benefit of the fans. More pessimistically, I think they are often influenced by a desire to keep the mere mortal clubs away from the ‘big boys’…I really do. And no, RFU, calling the division ‘The Prem’ does NOT make it cool, nor any more appealing to da yoof. Even a codger like me can see that!
Yes, I will get to the point. It struck me after watching England capitulate on the Rugby field this weekend, how much my whole mood and demeanour slumped as a result. I cannot describe adequately the amount of negative emotions coursing through my body after that woeful display. It is exactly the same for my sons with football. Why do I let a spectacle over which I have absolutely no control affect my mood so badly? Yes, there are the highs…but they are outplayed and outsmarted by the lows. I think I need to take a break and just appreciate the things I can control, and enjoy the bounty of this life without a care for a final whistle. I accept that the issue could be with me, and not with team sport, but either way…
The Tate Britain
I had the pleasure and time to visit Tate Britain this week. What a pleasure to have such a cultural delight for us all to enjoy – for free! It’s been years since I was dragged kicking and screaming around an art gallery – but this time I went voluntarily, and utterly loved the couple of hours I spent there.
Some of the works of art grabbed hold of me, and I spent a long time just gazing and wondering. Others did absolutely nothing for me, however – and that’s ok too. What shocked me was the realisation over which ones didn’t impress me at all. I may well be a Philistine, but I found the paintings of Turner and Constable to be quite dull, frankly. Herein lies the beauty and fascination of any art form – it is entirely subjective and pertinent to the consumer. I may love the Turners and Constables next time I visit (and I WILL go back) – once I’m free from the negative effect of team sports!
Comedy Chair
I had one of those hotel room chairs this week. You know the kind…just as you relax into it and start to read or write, it drops suddenly about an inch without warning. Three nights I was there, and it got me every time.
Paranoia or Pickpockets?
I had only realised by the time I was halfway up the escalator coming out of Tottenham Court Road Tube Station, that the pair of women I had to manoeuvre around at the bottom of the escalator had got on it as soon as I had passed them. It dawned on me that I had a rucksack on my back…A furtive glance backwards resulted in quickly averted eye contact from the two women, so I walked immediately to the top of the escalator, and checked the contents of my bag. Paranoia or not, I wasn’t taking any chances!
#Awkward
At the end of a conference, I hugged a dear friend goodbye as I was leaving. I’m a hugger. With people I know. It did take me somewhat by surprise when the conference organiser (who I had only met that day) came in for a big one as I offered him my hand. I can’t work out who felt more awkward in all honesty.
