ALL hail to the men in red shorts!
A fitting start to this week’s page 30 as I was pondering on the dangers and hazards of cleaning BUT this week’s event in Madrid overtook my thoughts for some obscure reason and so I thought I should maybe entertain my reader by revealing my expertise on the subject of football (the soccer type – not the American game, of which I know absolutely zilch).
Actually, come to think of it, I know pretty much nothing about the UK version as I am in that group of females who lost the will to live after: one, Diego’s ‘Hand of God’ shattered England’s dream in 1986; two, they sent off Chingford’s local golden boy David Beckham in the 1996 World Cup for kicking yet another bloody Diego; and three, the damn offside rule which has been explained to me time and time again.
I DO actually get it now BUT as the rule states – and I quote from the infallible Google – ‘a player is in an offside position if he is nearer to his opponents’ goal line than both the ball and the second last opponent’.
My opinion, for what it is worth, is that it makes no bleedin’ sense whatsoever!
Plus, when you add maths into the equation, like having to work out who the second last opponent was it boggles my mind indeed, especially as sport and maths were never my top marks at school, having bunked out of them both as many times as I could possibly get away with.
So, concluding the whole offside situation, I would strongly advise the withdrawal of the rule forthwith and thus doing, there would be far more action and much less of those annoying whistle-blowing shenanigans!
This year will be pretty boring for those who, like me, only ever get their England/Spain kits in the wash once every two years, buy the traditional car flags, which generally have to be taken off ashamedly by the second round, and go along at least four hours early to get a seat at the bar with the biggest TV and table service (can’t miss any dramas!) to watch our national teams do battle, hopefully with the Argentinians and/or the Germans (yes I remember 1966 too!).
When attending World or Euro Cup matches, it is also very important to be strategically placed near to a loo (ie. not having someone nearer to the toilet door than both you, your mate and the second last waiter) as, invariably, a goal by England/Spain will most definitely be scored while you are peeing.
That has happened to me so many times that I now go on purpose in the hope that England will score while I am looking for a new loo roll.
In fact, let it be said that Harry Kane’s second goal against Tunisia last year was totally due to my having downed too many cervezas during the second half.
Now it seems I have done my usual trick of digressing from the subject I actually intended to write about this week, but for those who have read my previous columns, that will come as no surprise I suppose and now you will have to wait with baited breath for another two weeks to read about that.
Before I sign this off and send it over to the esteemed editors, I would like to just tell you of my one claim to soccer fame.
Last year, I went to Moraira to watch the World Cup matches as the bar there has a TV that can be seen from space and they don’t ever run out of loo paper.
Anyway… who happened to be watching the England match but Jordan Henderson’s dad, Brian.
Now, Señor Henderson Junior is sort of infamous for being a bit ‘lippy’ on the pitch, so we were all very amused when Brian got on the phone to him at half time and told his little lad not to #[email protected]&%*! swear at the ref or he will get sent off.
Jordan seemed to have heeded daddy’s words and was a good boy the rest of the game.
Brian is a nice guy and the day was absolutely brilliant with him being there, especially as England won.
Finally, for those who happened to make the journey to Madrid on Saturday, especially those who paid stupid amounts of money to see Spurs lose, or those who didn’t actually get into the game and had to drown their sorrows in the blue bars and sleep on park benches…suckers! (lol)