Neverending Top Ten #5.3: The Football Match

Yes, I found it more pleasurable to sit facing away from the pitch.

On Saturday, I went to a football game. Not a game that my son Sam was playing in, but a professional* game, in a stadium, with actual football fans.   

(*Those of you with specific allegiances may wish to question my use of this word. It was Huddersfield Town versus West Brom, after all. Have at it, I have no stake in local pride.)

Anyone who's been reading this blog for more than 5 minutes will realise the irony of Me. At. A. Football. Match. Or maybe irony's not the right word. "Cruel twist of fate" might be more appropriate. But the tickets were free and I did it for Sam. He enjoyed himself, and that's what being a parent is all about. Sacrifice.

Strangely, this is not the first time I have attended a professional football game. Back when I played in the band, I once stood on the pitch and played at half time. (Before you get excited, thinking I'm the long lost Ramone brother, it was a brass band.) Same team, very different ground, back in the late 80s... I seem to recall "shed" would have been a more appropriate term than "stadium". 

I don't really have any observations about the game itself. Town did pretty well in the first half, going 2-0 up, then got a bit complacent and let the Brommers pull it back for a draw. I think that's how Alan Partridge would have put it. (I used to work with a guy called Brommers. He wasn't from West Brom.) Maybe I have an observation or two about the crowd though. We were in the family stand, and it all started out very civilised, with lots of clapping and general encouragement. It was almost like a cricket match. Midway through the second half, when Town were no longer up, that had changed to an aura of bitter dissent, with repeated examples of loud toxic masculinity... and that was just from the women. (I joke, but some of the loudest and rudest heckles came from the ladies. We live in an age of true equality.)

I won't be hurrying back, but I'd happily accompany Sam again if the tickets were free. And there weren't any freshly painted walls that needed observing for the afternoon.  

I stumbled across this lot last week. Early 70s "Bubblerockers" The Huddersfield Transit Authority. (I presume they were taking the piss out of The Chicago Transit Authority. And Huddersfield.) Never heard of them before, but had to give them a listen for reasons of the aforementioned local pride. They're not from Huddersfield, in case you were wondering. In fact, the lead singer was Sir Timothy Miles Bindon Rice, of "wrote the words for Andrew Lloyd-Webber" fame. Although he didn't write the words for this. I don't think Del Shannon had much to worry about...