As an Azzurri supporter the strangest thing about the shellacking they received in the Euro 2012 final was the fact I didn’t seem to care, the last time an Italian team lost four-nil to the Spaniards I overturned a living room. Perhaps I no longer care about football? Maybe I’ve got to the point where I no longer have any reactions to twenty-two men running around a pitch other than casual amusement.
This malaise has been creeping up for a while. Where before I would celebrate the highs and shout at the lows of a match now I just shrug my shoulders and change the channel. There is no longer the threat of a sore throat after a penalty shootout, nor the silent brooding that comes from a poor result. Continue reading
The evening of May 18th 1994, this was the day I fell in love with football.
I wasn’t really into football as a youngster, I had little interest when Coventry (my local team) won the FA Cup in 1987 and England’s progress in various world cups passed me by. It was only when I hit my teens that I started to pay attention to “The People’s Game”.
This just happened to coincide with the beginning of the Premier League, so my knowledge of English football would be restricted to any late night Saturday viewing of Match of the Day or whilst playing Sensible Soccer.
At this time I was unable to tell my Accrington Stanley from FC Zenit, so as my Dad would play as Marseille (then European Champions but on the verge of being found out of being dodgy) I had to rely on him suggesting who I should play as. English Clubs were still rubbish in Europe (after just starting to return from their ban) so he told me I should be A.C. Milan. So every night we would play a re-run of the 1993 final, him as the French and I as the Italians. Continue reading
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