The Joy of Football

Leicester’s Premier League success is remarkable, but just a taste of what football offers

I came to football relatively late in life. While many kids across Britain grow up spending their weekends on the terraces with their parents, or watching their team on the TV, I was only ever interested when it came to the World Cup. My Dad was never a football man, and so I never paid the sport any mind; it was something I was aware was happening, but had no part in my life whatsoever.

Through a conversation with a friend over FIFA, I nominally chose to ‘support’ Manchester City. He said I should chose a team, since everyone has a team, I asked him to suggest one that was roughly mid-tableish (this was before the takeover), and chose City out of the options completely arbitrarily.

I say ‘support’ in inverted commas as, for a long while, I was a supporter in theory only. I would occasionally catch City on Match of the Day if my brother was watching it, and was vaguely aware of big stories relating to the club, but never watched matches, and could barely tell you where City sat in the table.

Over time, though, my interest grew. I started watching Match of the Day of my own accord, and kept track of City’s position in the league. We didn't have Sky, but I’d watch cup games whenever they were on the terrestrial channels. So it was that when City lined up against United in the FA cup semi-final, I found myself feeling the same excitement and tension that I felt watching England.

Now, football is one of my big passions. My arbitrarily chosen team is in many ways a bad choice; I don’t live anywhere near Manchester, but I watch every City game I can, and any other big games that interest me. The start of a new season brings a unique feeling of excitement, and what follows is a nine month roller-coaster of ecstatic joy mixed with bitter disappointment.

Leicester City’s fairytale season has captured the imagination of the footballing world, and brought a fresh wave of attention to the Premier League. Even those who don’t normally watch football have paid notice; the recently relegation threatened team who many wrote off at the beginning of the season, rising up to beat out the expensively assembled ‘big’ teams and become champions - it’s a great underdog story regardless of your interest in the sport.

Those who aren't fans, though, might get the impression that this is an anomalous high tide — an unpredictable season out of the left field that’s broken the usual monotony of the Premier league. It’s true, too, that this sentiment exists to an extent among lifelong fans; this season will be undoubtedly remembered as special, and many see Leicester’s triumph as a refreshing break from the corporate feel that’s started to consume the beautiful game.

I don’t disagree that there are problems with the game as it stands. My team are one of the big benefactors of the modern, money oriented game, having used an endowment of resources to carry us above our competitors. Rising ticket prices are pushing hardcore fans out, replacing them with ‘tourists’. Even those with no interest in football whatsoever will be aware of the numerous scandals occurring in the game’s various governing bodies.

Despite all this, though, we still love football. This past season was anomalous in result, but not in excitement, and not in it’s telling of a great story.

In 11/12, we had the story of Manchester City fighting to finally compete with the long-dominant Manchester United. A neck and neck start opened up after an unexpected trouncing in the derby, with City beating United 6–1 at Old Trafford. City let this lead slip, though, and United had the advantage heading into the final six games. United, the supposed kings of ‘squeaky-bum time’, stumbled, leaving both teams on level points on the final day of the season. What followed is the stuff of Premier League legend; City, having fallen behind 1–2 and needing three points to win the title, scored two in extra time, winning the title for the first time in the Premier League era.

Alex Ferguson then, the long-reigning United boss, having successfully knocked Liverpool off their ‘fucking perch’, had one final challenge; to win the title back from their city rivals. Buoyed by the arrival of Aresnal’s talismanic striker Robin Van Persie, Ferguson led a team of what is now viewed as largely average players to a title win in 12/13 and, with this one final victory, retired.

The 13/14 season rang in the changes. With Fergie gone, the void was filled with his supposed hand picked successor David Moyes. Meanwhile City, disappointed with their poor title defence and FA Cup final loss to Wigan, had sacked manager Mancini and brought in the much calmer presence of Manuel Pellegrini. Perhaps most anticipated of all though was the return of Jose Mourinho to Chelsea; the manager we love to hate charged with re-establishing Chelsea as competitors for the title. While Moyes’ United performed well below expectations, much to the delight of pretty much everyone, City and Chelsea were not left alone to contest the title — an unexpected Liverpool challenge, led by the ruthless partnership of strikers Sturridge and Suarez, took the season down to the wire. As Chelsea faded, a Liverpool win against City with only a few games to go handed Liverpool the advantage. After the final whistle, captain Steven Gerrard took the opportunity to deliver an inspirational speech to his teammates, declaring ‘this does not slip!’ Weeks later, in a must-win encounter with Chelsea, Gerrard himself slipped while receiving a pass, allowing Chelsea striker Demba Ba to nick the ball and, with only the keeper to beat, score. Liverpool lost this match, and pole position with it. City were then able to close out the season, winning their second Premier League title and breaking Liverpool hearts across the country.

City would again fail to defend their title. 14/15 saw Chelsea demonstrate the ruthlessly efficient football that they’d hoped Mourinho would provide. With City their main title rivals (United still struggling, now under Van Gaal, and Liverpool now without Suarez), the first clash of the two sides was a tight encounter. When Frank Lampard, an undoubted Chelsea legend who’d found himself on loan at City en route to the MLS, was subbed on, there was a sense of inevitability that something would happen, and indeed, his dramatic late equaliser meant the points were shared. Over the course of the season though, it was Chelsea who proved the better side, and Mourinho’s instilling a siege mentality in his squad spurred the players on the win the league.

And all that time Arsenal came third or fourth.

These are just the story-lines involving my team. Supporters of other teams will have other games that stand out for them, other moments that defined each season and made it unique and special.

What is shared, though, is a love of the game. We have our gripes and complaints, and get frustrated with how the game is run, but through it all, is a deeply held passion for the sport. With each new season comes new excitement, new hope, and new moments that will live long in our memories as glorious successes or devastating losses.

This is the real beauty of the game. It simply adds great emotion, great story-lines, great drama to life that would otherwise be missing. If you’re not watching, you’re missing out.