I have never understood football. The offside rule confuses me, although I do know which side slings the ball back when it goes off at the side. I was only allowed to referee one football match as Cub Scout Leader in the 1950s. It was in Seven Kings Park on a foggy Saturday when you could not see from one end of the pitch to the other and the referee failed to turn up. I listened to what the boys said and if they called offside, offside it was; goal-kick, goal kick it was. It seemed to satisfy everyone - well, those I could see in the fog that is, although a few parents own the touch-line had harsh words with each other what ever I said. I guess it all went wrong for me when I played in my first football match at my big boy school in 1944 for as the ball came towards me I went down, picked it up and ran for the goal. I never really got over the after effects.
Tennis, too, is a mystery. Who, in their right mind, decided that scoring should be 15, 30, 40 and love? Love! And Match Point is a bit like offside. Also, when my big brother was courting, he took me to the tennis courts, placing me outside so that if the ball went over the top of the nets, I could find it and sling it back. I hated it!
And so recent television has been off-limits for me, with book reading top of the list and YouTube when I needed a bit of humour from the past - or my ever-faithful Alexa who plays The Eagles, James Blunt and the St Paul’s Cathedral Choir at my command.
Until last evening that is. The house-over-the-road has been flying the flag of England for days now - but last evening it seemed to be waving even harder and so I watched some of the England match. I thought they deserved to win for the Columbians did not appear to be playing by the Queenberry Rules, with the head butting of one young player only receiving a Yellow Card and a fair amount of rough play by others. That Kane fellow got a lot of kicking, but kept coming back for more. I guess he might be in line for an MBE . . .
What pleased me in particular is that this is a young team - with none of the billionaire wasters and posers who live in mansions with extensive grounds, basements, saunas and all the accoutrements of the rich.
In fact, I might even watch the next game when England play Sweden.
