Football Madness

I’m a football fan. Complete with silly amounts of random trivia imprinted on the inside of my skull, and an unnatural interest in Watford FC. But every now and then, I’m happy to give it a miss. Just because you adore steak doesn’t mean you scoff half a cow every day. You eat chicken. The difference with football is, it’s not that easy to avoid anymore in London.

Cue a recent Tuesday, when I chose not to watch England take on mediocre Switzerland. England would definitely win, and I hadn’t seen a mate of mine in a while. We chose to have a pint in a specially selected non-football pub in Baker Street. Yet on arrival, we were greeted by two large, vivid red jerseys emblazoned with ‘GERRARD’ on their backs, and that indistinct honking that can only be two loud men thrashing out their footballing differences.

Why wear the shirt if you’re not watching the game, you ask? I’m a football fan, and I have absolutely no idea. Whatever the reason, these men didn’t even bugger off at kick-off, as the whole pub was silently hoping in unison. Instead, they chose to refresh the score on their internet phones every eight seconds, and yell regardless of whether anything exciting had happened.

Our football-free drink ruined, we lamented briefly before parting ways. Walking to the tube, I passed a Pizza Express and, while chuckling at the fools who had opted for pasta, I was stopped dead in my tracks by another sight. At a table in the middle sat another two GERRARDs, unmistakably deconstructing the game they had finished watching moments ago, with much unnecessary gesticulating and guffawing. It doesn’t take a fan to recognise the signs, much less a Watford fan, who rarely gets to discuss a victory (England won).

Is it just me, or are some football fans like urban foxes: acceptable in their natural habitats (rubbish tips and loud pubs with quiz machines) but disconcerting when they branch out, getting more confident and daring?

What’s next, a GERRARD sipping champagne during the Phantom interval, quietly checking his BlackBerry?

Lucky I like it, really.

Image by Ben Sutherland courtesy of Flickr