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There’s so much hyperbole around football these days, from the alliterative selling of Super Sundays, to the Hollywood hype of pre-game trailers. Everything is ‘do-or-die’, and every game is a ‘crunch’ encounter. There’s a certain irony in trying so very hard to sell something to such a captive, willing audience. You had us at the mere mention of ‘football’.
There are many reasons why the beautiful game is such a national obsession. Part of it is escapism, both from the monotony of life, and increasingly, the state of the world. What we have in football is a precious release from everything else, for 90 minutes a pop. But there’s also enduring sense of community, and shared experience. It sounds corny, but football *does* bring us together. And nowhere more so than at the actual game.
The buzz of waking up on a match day morning is unique; often dampened by a sore head from the night before, but nothing a cooked breakfast can’t fix. We all have our match day routines. We all have our lucky match day gear. The replica shirt, the lucky pants, the stripy scarf. All of it has to be in good nick for Saturday. Weekend Sports Breakfast is playing on the radio as you eat your breakfast and the excitement begins to brew. Regardless of the result last weekend, that hope is back. We’re going to win today, aren’t we?
How far will football fans go to show their care for their club? Click here to see the full video.
An underrated part of a match day is definitely the journey to the ground. Whether it’s with your dad, mum, best mate, whoever you go with, it’s special. The train is packed full of fellow fans. You might be acquainted with one or two you’ve seen before. As the team news comes out, a groan is let out in unison as that player still can’t get a game despite being the best thing since sliced bread. You arrive at the station and the chants begin as you descend from the platform to the town centre.
You pop into your favourite pub where you stop en route for a naughty midday pint to calm the nerves. You see the regulars in there. You exchange pleasantries, discuss team news, predict the outcome of the game and continue on your pilgrimage.
Next on the agenda, a quick pit stop for food before the final stretch of the walk to the ground. Cheesy chips or a pasty to fill – and warm – you up on a cold winter’s afternoon completes the perfect pre-game routine.
Walking up to the turnstiles, you’re probably bursting for the loo by now. WHY didn’t we go in the pub?! Depending on how modern your team’s stadium is and thus how efficient their ticketing system is, you make it into the ground in good time/after what felt like long enough to play a whole half of football.
The concourse makes everything echo in a unique way. Thousands of boozed up fans bellow “Oh when the reds…..” out across the concourse, all glaring up at the screens showing Soccer Saturday as Jeff and co. bring you coverage of the early kick off and team news from games around the country.
It’s almost time to go in. You down your pint, you go for one more toilet break, say goodbye to that fella from Block H and make your way down to your seat. “Sorry, cheers, excuse me, thanks, pardon me, nice one.” You’re finally sat down. When you look back up at the players warming up on the bright green grass and look around at the however many thousand fans who all share your most beloved passion, that’s when it kicks in. This is what you look forward to all week. The camaraderie of being surrounded by likeminded people from your local community is why you fell in love with the game. You look after them and they look after you. You don’t support your team because of how a certain manager deployed a complex tactical system, but because of the buzz that no other experience can replicate.
Unless you support one of the few elite teams in the world, most games have their ups and downs. You go through spells of dominance and spells when it’s backs against the wall. Despite the increasing sanitisation of Premier League stadium atmospheres, fans still do their best to generate a buzz through the beauty of singing creative chants in unison with thousands of other fans. Even bad performances can be lifted by chants like ‘Let’s pretend we scored a goal.’
A good match day experience ends with no voice, but it doesn’t matter. You might not have any finger nails left either. Hopefully nothing matters after the game because you’ve won. Your shins are heavily bruised after the bedlam that ensued after your teams winner. You hugged a load of strangers you’d never spoken to before because in that moment, nothing else but the fact your team had scored the winner mattered.
Making your way back to the train, every member of your footballing family on cloud 9 after that important win, still singing all the way back to the station, you haven’t a worry in the world. What essay? What report? We just got three points. Let’s get the cans in.
And this is the magic of a match day. It is one of the most popular forms of escapism and it’s easy to understand why. The camaraderie, the sense of community, the electric atmosphere, especially under the lights. All of these things combine to create a unique experience.
Some days you wish you’d never fallen in love with this heart-breaking game. But some days, most days hopefully, you remember why you did. For a whole day, those 90 minutes especially, you’re with your second family with whom you’ve experienced a whirlwind of emotions. And win, lose or draw, the hope that next week it’ll be better keeps bringing you back. There’s nothing quite like it.
