Just another dent in the damage...

I’m not quite sure what it is about football and the flying of those daft flags on cars that makes me want to explode with rage. I want to snap every last one of em and ram the remains so far up the arse of its owner that it pokes out of their mouth. I’m not anti flag flyers I don’t think but I just can’t help associating it with the BNP, with nationalism, fascism, hooliganism, Nazism and every other bad ism associated with football and its moronic fans. Being from Stoke I’ve witnessed a bleeding Razorlight gig turn into a full on war between Stoke City and Port Vale fans. Yes, I said Razorlight and yes, I’ve already served my time holding my head in shame. The actual term football hooliganism brings to mind the first and last nazi skinhead I hope to ever meet, Moz. At the weekends Moz liked to go and watch the football match (I forget whether he was Stoke or Vale) followed by a nice round of ‘paki bashing’ with his pals. I remember we were round his house one afternoon when he was playing his crap music so loud it was making my ears bleed. When I asked him why he wouldn’t turn it down he said ‘I like pissing the nigga next door off’. I never went round to see Moz ever again after that. But anyway I understand that not all football fans are like this and it is possible to be proud of your team and support your team without being a total douchebag. I just don’t get this whole hooligan culture we are so famous for – why don’t we suffer from cricket hooliganism or rugby hooliganism? Or do we? Is it just the fact that the media enjoy stories about football hooliganism much more than they do about any other game that involves a team and a ball? I don’t necessarily think I have a problem with football per se it’s more the association it has with those horrible lager-guzzling fatties falling about town at the weekends waving their short stumpy arms in the air slurring some nah na nah lyrics about how we won a war and a World Cup. “Oo are ya, Oo are ya, Oo are ya?”

But yesterday I, along with a few thousand other people left work early to get home in time to watch the match. Why? I sat on my sofa (alone) for a solid hour and fourty-five minutes shouting at Crouch to sort out his ridiculously long spagetti legs. Why? I jumped to the edge of my seat as Terry saved the hopes and dreams of a nation. Why? I waved MY arms in the air when the ball sailed into the back of the net. Why? Why did I fall victim to this awful bout of World Cup-itis? I’m most certainly not proud of the next thing I have to say but I, Lex Rigby actually really enjoyed the match on a whole. The tension, the excitement, the anxiety, the relief, the joy, the commentary (I even added my own). I don’t think I’ll attempt any great analysis of the actual football played but I think I did well to make these few observations:

Rooney looks like Shrek,
Terry made a cracking save,
Crouch has the longest legs on Earth,
Two players are called Cole,
Beckham’s blue boots clashed with his kit,
Robinson has massive thighs,
Lampard’s hair is thinning on top,
Gerrard gobbed after he scored – gross,
And that man that sits next to Sven looks like Johnny Biggs from Coronation Street.

So what’s next? England v Sweden? Are we likely to win? We’re currently at the top of the group with six points, yes?

This entry was posted on Friday, June 16th, 2006 at 11:07 am and is filed under Personal and tagged as football, hooliganism, stoke. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a comment, or trackback from your own site.