It’s Only a Game

FUNNY AND INSIGHTFUL TALES OF AN "OVER-INVESTED" FOOTBALL DAD “Kids’ football has a wonderfully compelling subculture all of its own.” That’s the claim of Andrew Christophers in It’s Only a Game which is about the 25 years he spent on the touchline watching his sons play the beautiful game. I would add that Football Dads, for that is what Christophers is, are a wonderfully compelling species all of its own - one which I have observed with an Attenborough-eque curiosity in the ten years I have spent as a Football Mum. Football Dads aren’t like me. They can’t take their eyes off the game, whereas I try to watch and do my emails at the same time. They holler: “One of you!,” “Time!” and “NICE ONE REF!” while I whisper: “Come on, baby! Well done, my darling!” The only time Football Dads look at their phones is when play has stopped and I am flapping about saying: “What happened? What did I miss? Why are the lads punching each other?” Different species, you see. The species is the same the nation over judging by the stories in Christophers’ book. He regales the reader with his years at Hampton Rangers from 1995 - 2007, with Jack, and with the NPL Youth Football Club from 2004-2017, with Will. The tales are well told and they are so relatable that many times I had to put the book down so I could laugh out load as they evoked memories of my own. There was the player who called his manager a “knobhead” and I am sent straight back to the time when my own boy called his manager a “c***”. There was the match that had to be called off because one parent headbutted another; the manager that got a red card; the parent who crossed over to support the opposing team in protest that his child wasn’t selected to play a semi-final. I know those parents! I have met them all! And as such, It’s Only a Game, gave me good, cathartic belly-laughs. Christophers’ affectionate rendition of kids’ football shows an unusual degree of self-awareness. As such, I had been hoping it would give me some tips, as well as laughs. I have felt helpless as a Football Mum, not just because I understand little about the technicalities of the game but also because, as a non-sporty person, I have little experience of winning and losing and handling the emotions that go with that. I was looking for a chapter called It’s Coming Home. “It’s coming home that kills you.” “It’s coming home that you dread because of the fireball of emotion that sits beside you in the car.” I was looking for some insight into how to handle those journeys back in which shame and frustration collide and I am left with a sick feeling in my belly that doesn’t go away until my child is happy again. But here’s the thing, Christophers doesn’t even mention the coming home - and I find that telling. He has a chapter called Heartache and Pain but that’s all about the disappointments of the team. He doesn’t write about the skills that are needed to hold the space through which your child can process his hurt. It seems that, for Christophers, football is all about belonging to a clan whereas for me it’s about supporting my child in following his bliss. Different species, you see. It’s Only a Game ends on a wistful note. Christophers’ children grow up and his 25 years on the touchline come to an end. I shed a tear in the epilogue, which is entitled What Happened Next. What happened next was that both sons continued to play football. Will now works in Sky Sports with one of his former teammates and shares a flat with three of the guys from footie at school. Jack has got children who have joined Little Kickers. “Could the cycle be starting all over again?” Christophers muses. I found it moving to take a step back and reflect on just how good those boring, cold, painful years on the touchline were. You don’t have to be sporty to appreciate what playing football gives as a foundation to a person’s life. Our boys have learnt about being part of a team, about belonging, about discipline and persistence, about glory and shame. They have developed social skills and technical skills and a network of fellow football fans all over the world. They have learnt to understand their powerful, testosterone-filled bodies and how to live well in them. More than school and more than music, it is football that has developed my son from the little ‘un who couldn’t tie his boot laces into the fine, young athlete he is today. And this has happened in community, with his peers, some of whom had very little else in their lives. Young people who were failed by school and failed by the adults around them, could find, on the football pitch, a way to grow, become and shine. Who can understand the Football Dads? Who can explain why grown men’s happiness for an entire week depends on the outcome of a match played by children on a Sunday morning? What is the psychology through which their hopes and dreams are lived more intensely through their sons than they were through their own days on the field? Christophers claims they were “over-invested and over-emotional”. “With the glorious benefit of hindsight,” he says, “maybe we did put a bit too much pressure on our nine-year-olds!” But were they over-invested? I’m not so sure. If it wasn’t for the investment of Football Dads there would be nobody teaching six-year-olds how to kick a ball, nobody putting up goals, running the line and making tricky decisions about when to substitute a player on a Sunday morning. Without their investment there would no kids’ football and ultimately no Premier League. It’s Only a Game offers the opportunity to examine, celebrate and laugh about the investment - the “over-investment” - on which our national sport depends. I may not understand the Football Dads but I have grown to love them (well, most of them…) and know they deserve the gratitude of the nation.