A piece I wrote that may help evoke a little of the passion we feel for the game -
Friday Night Lights
'It's just like every other match, lads', the Manager says.
'No different from any other day', he says.
But it's not.
He knows it's not.
More importantly, you know that it's not.
This is Championship Football.
This is what you've dreamed of since you first kicked ball with your mates in the street.
This is what you grew up watching your Uncles playing, amazed that those same guys on the field would be sitting down for the spuds with you the very next Sunday.
This is what you've trained so hard for.
Pre-Season Training. Weights. Forest Runs, Pilates, feckin' Aqua-aerobics! It all comes to a head today.
You check your alarm clock. 2.39am. In just over 15 and a half hours you will take the field of battle.
You mentally pack and unpack your gear for the one hundredth time.
Boots.
Socks.
Shorts.
Top.
Gloves.
Gumshield........ Gumshield, that'll be needed, you think, no doubt about that.
You smile to yourself in the darkness as you contemplate the physical battle ahead.
All day, at work or at school, your mind never strays too far from the impending chaos. The nervous energy ratchets up notch by notch as the hours pass.
You have your routine, the rituals that you'll never change.
You listen to that same old playlist. You do your stretches. You visit the grave and you ask for the strength and courage you need. You eat the damn pasta.
Driving to the pitch you visualise that first ball. You see yourself making that tackle, making the block, delivering a thunderous shoulder, scoring a beautiful point.
If matches were played in your head you'd be a star.
But they're not......
And so, it's time.
The changing room is akin to a crypt. Eerily quiet. Nervous energy causes knees to bounce up and down. Water is sipped without thought of any real thirst.
You make eye contact with your brother in arms. He's ready. And now so are you.
You take to the field and you breath in the atmosphere. Jesus, the whole parish must be here. You hope you can do them proud. You try not to think of that now. Don't need that pressure.
You find your man and you get the measure of him. In your mind you tell yourself that he's smaller than you thought, he doesn't look as sharp as he was, he's getting on a bit. You start the battle in earnest, at least in your mind.
You stand there in your position, coiled, a cobra ready to strike.
Hands shaken and anthem sung, the time for civility has come and gone. Its nothing personal, you tell yourself, but this man is now your sworn enemy and you will have no qualms putting him to the sword.
The ball goes up as the referee blows the first whistle.
The crowd goes silent.
For a second you lose it under those Friday Night Lights.
And then the nerves are gone.
And then it's time.
Time to express yourself.
And now you are free.........
The sound of the crowd comes rushing back.
THIS is Championship Football.
And a video of a wonderful score from my clubs Championship game last year and another written piece to go with it that might give more insight in to the game and what it means to it's supporters. - https://www.facebook.com/PGthePT/vid...9740798759612/