What If Football Is Secretly The Best Thing On Tele?
You know what show I really like? “Liverpool vs…”. Sure, you could argue it’s just millionaires running around a field for ninety minutes and, yeah, it can go all ninety of those minutes without a goal — but there’s so much more to it than that. Maybe the people that hate on The Beautiful Game could warm up to it more if they viewed it as more of a show than the legitimate fans do.
Could they see the last minute goals as plot twists, and focus on the character development of all the players and managers instead of fictional meth dealers and advertising execs? Is supporting Real Madrid much different than rooting for House Lannister? Is loving and celebrating a real person that scores a winning goal not far more natural and raw than celebrating a fictional character winning a fight?
This is dedicated to the guy that shouted “Oh look, he put the ball in the net, well done.” after I erupted into noise following Phillipe Coutinhos wonder goal versus Bolton that punched Liverpool’s tickets into the next round of the FA Cup.
Wrestling isn’t real, and neither is Prison Break or Coronation Street — football, however, has real people that bleed real blood when they get hit and cry real tears when they lose. No ‘tweezering the thigh’ from Joey Tribbiani 101 here. You form a real bond with these characters over the years, and build your own persona around them to fill in any gaps,
You can have the “Cocky frat boy player that you hate to love” or the “Calculated genius that manipulates everyone around them” or the “Psychopath that will see red and break bones to get what he wants,” and watching these work together can be fascinating. The fans even take on personas themselves, adding a meta-level to the game along with a plethora of blogs, podcasts, YouTube channels and more attached to each league and team; meaning there’s much more external entertainment that doesn’t just end when the credits roll.
Even if the local water cooler doesn’t attract fans of your latest binge watch or football club, there are thousands out there online and in forums that you can discuss the romances of Mulder and Scully or Messi and Neymar with.
It’s more emotional than Game of Thrones, and it’s even got big name stars (Steven Gerrard was in the last season but left for the less successful US spin-off). It’s got betrayal as characters leave one clan for another — Lampard leaving long-term club Chelsea for rivals Manchester City incurred a shit storm like no other. The new season has only just begun, and already I can’t wait to see what teams will rise and what teams will fall; the plot twists are genuine and there’s no chance of spoilers either.
Sure, some episodes are slow. But for every episode where Walt and Jessie escape the law or burn some gangbangers, there’s got to be one where they catch a fly. There are seasons where you score triple figure goals and play football more beautiful than Jon Hamm — or even seasons where just a newly promoted side fight the odds, maybe beat two big names and finish mid-table — and you need these to contrast the bad seasons. You need the bad times to make the good times more real, and the good times to give the bad times a light at the end of the tunnel.
Mourinho has selfelessly taken the mantle of villain you love to hate or hate to love.
No one would argue that nurses aren’t underpaid, and doctors shouldn’t be earning as much as footballers — but to get so upset over another person’s wage packet is a waste of good time; because there’s something we the viewers pay too. Not the BT Sport fee or the hyper-inflated cost of a hot dog on match day, but an emotional currency the bank can’t charge interest on.
There’s a road I walk down every time I finish watching a match back home on Merseyside. I remember treading its cobbles with tears in my eyes, rage in my fists, a big dumb grin slapped on my face. I remember cursing a manager for playing the wrong formation like a lover had wronged me, celebrating a stranger “putting the ball in the net” like I had just passed my GCSE’s/driving lessons/degree all at once.
