Football’s Coming Home (And There’s Nothing You Can Do About It)

By Hannah D'Arcy on August 16, 2012 in Society

We’ve splodged miserably through July, trying desperately to avoid torrential downpours and other people’s children, searching desperately for some sunlight. Now that we (and perhaps the sun) have been dragged kicking and screaming into August, it means two things:

There’s still a whole month of school holidays to go;

The football season is almost upon us.

To the untrained eye, the new football season probably seems unimportant. After all, this year we’ve had the Euros and the Olympics that have caused hundreds of thousands of DIY projects to be left incomplete nationwide. We’ve watched the Great British women’s football team so far upstage the men, resulting in the sudden change of heart regarding the quality of the female game, and causing KYEO’s own Adam Clery to spaff on endlessly about how much he loves the likes of Jill Kelly. Oof.

International football, however, will never stir up the emotion, pride, loyalty and downright hatred in the North East that our local teams do. Whether you know about football or not, you’ll be aware that the rivalry between Newcastle and Sunderland is practically biblical and, to a lesser degree, a cup tie between either of the two and Middlesbrough can get a bit tasty as well.

As a person who supports none of the above, Derby Day is nothing short of irritating. For your own safety, you stay away from the town centres. Depending on the result (let’s face it, it usually goes Newcastle’s way) my husband is either in a great mood – meaning he promptly legs it to the pub – or is in a vile mood and plays Sunderland vs. Newcastle on FIFA all night in a vain effort to undo the result.

It’s a community, a family, who defend their own against those who would decry them. Men, women and children are equals for 90 minutes in love and hate. And when the whole thing’s over and done with, there’s something for everyone to mourn/celebrate/dissect for a few days.

Nothing can unite and divide like football. It’s a pseudo-religious experience and our stadiums are our churches, the chants our hymns and the referee is usually the devil.

The thing is, football is exciting and, in this region, it’s more exciting than most. You’re part of an army and, for at least one day a week, the colours of your clothing define you. You put your foot behind every kick, ache with every bad tackle and celebrate every goal as your own. I suppose a somewhat cynical, but no less factual, way of looking at it is that football is a great way of claiming victory for something you’ve had absolutely no part in. “We won!” – ‘we’? The belief that the crowd is the team’s twelfth man is probably one of the reasons that football is the nation’s most popular sport.

It’s a community, a family, who defend their own against those who would decry them. Men, women and children are equals for 90 minutes in love and hate. And when the whole thing’s over and done with, there’s something for everyone to mourn/celebrate/dissect for a few days.

So, if like me, you’re a bit of a football widow, or even if you just can’t stand it – it causes traffic, they’re not ‘real men’, “Like this if you think soldiers should earn more than pansy footballers” (without ONE person who’s liked the thing cancelling their Sky subscription and giving the monthly fee to an armed forces charity) – try not to hate it.

Yes, it means if you’re a Sunderland fan working in Newcastle or vice versa, you’re going to get a lot of grief, whether you follow football or not. Yes, it means your Facebook feed is going to be full of expletive-filled “Toooooooooon” status updates and yes, unfortunately, it means that poor phone box in the Big Market has started to shit itself already, but it also means a huge outpouring of regional pride that may not otherwise be there and, for me at least, it means I get a bit of peace and quiet for a few hours a weekend.

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