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I had never been to a football match with my own father. He was disabled and was bed-ridden during most
of my childhood. So, I had always had this image in mind that if I had ever had a son, we’d go to a
football game together, hand in hand.
By eight, my son was a passionate supporter. He would write out his own lists of goals and records in his
horrible handwriting. He would go to bed reading his Spurs books and programmes, falling asleep with
them on his little chin. He only lives three streets away now and we still talk about football all the time.
This is because football is not just a game that begins and ends. Football is a passion for life, cutting
across all ages, all classes, and all backgrounds.
As a parent, it’s hard to share interests with your children and find common ground. However, with
football, there are no generation gaps. You can discuss the match, any match, with the very old or the very
young, and your opinion will be listened to. I used to ring my father-in-law, who died at 96, every
Saturday at 5:30 pm after Sports Reports for decades just to discuss how Carlisle United had got on. It was
our point of contact, what we had in common. Yes, I know a pretty superficial point of contact, but is
going on about shopping, babies or relationships really all that more meaningful?
My son rings me after he has seen a match on television or at half-time on his mobile, if he’s at a match
without me. He might be indulging me as I indulged my father-in-law, but that doesn’t bother me.
Football has replaced the zoo as the half-day a week treat for divorced fathers. You also see middle-class,
middle-aged fathers suddenly acquiring an interest in football, which they never had before, as a way of
establishing a relationship with their children whom they've hardly talked to for 20 years because they
were so busy in their careers.