Football’s (sadly not) coming home

I thought it appropriate during a significant week in the world of football to write a post about something which I used to love but now doesn’t do much for me at all.

Over the past few weeks the 1966 England kits have come out of the loft, ‘Waistcoat Wednesday’ became a thing, The Sun newspaper has come up with some cracking headlines and Baddiel, Skinner & The Lightning Seeds have been played on repeat.

Pubs have been filled with atmospheres which have been missing for years, everybody has been smiling and the glorious weather has added to the hype.

People have been having parties revolved around the match leaving only fifteen minute slots in which to eat. Marriages have been reunited and bonds have been broken when wives wanted to watch the new series of The Affair but hubby and son have stuck the TV on BBC1.

The roars of celebration have come from living rooms up and down the country, cries of commiseration too, but one thing that remains through all of this mayhem is togetherness and that’s the thing that I love.

I used to adore playing football. In fact, from the age of about eleven until sixteen when my team folded I dedicated a lot of my life to the game and was pretty good at it. I never fell in love with watching it and still fail to understand how people can sit and watch every minute week on week. However, I can understand the hype that comes with the world cup.

The patriarchy, the pride to be British and the togetherness is the thing that I love the most. We are a nation of moaning misery a lot of the time and the upbeat spirit that has surrounded the world cup has been refreshing to see. This doesn’t disregard the fact that I’m more than happy to do my own thing and only enter the room when I hear cheers from the company that I am with, but I do feel a sense of pride when this happens.

Though soaking up the final rays of sunshine and my delicious corn on the cob came first on Wednesday evening (not to mention that I feel I may have jinxed the match with Croatia’s first goal coming as soon as I turned over) I did watch it.

As sad as it is that we didn’t make the final, the good vibes that it created within the country having got so far is good enough for me. Vibes so good that they led three girls who wouldn’t usually care for a game of football (one of which is Irish) to watch and cheer and swiftly escape before the men got home.