A football post

A brief return to Blogger to put in a little article which was intended for the Bexhill United programme of which I am the editor these days - 20 pages of footy goodness, ("not too much black pleeeze Colin"), but the piece grew in length and self-indulgence until it wouldn't fit. 

We used to have a nice little community on Blogger, years ago. I expect they're all dead now. 

Anyhow... 

These are good times to be a Bexhill United supporter: at the time of writing we’re 7th in the league when a lot of us expected a struggle. In fact, these are good times to support the club at all levels, and if Bexhill doesn’t float your boat, to actually support your local step 5 or 6 club, wherever you are. (Unless it’s Shoreham FC, obviously ☺). 

 At all levels above, for sure you might see more skilful play, but even at Isthmian League level, just one step above us, you'll see players and staff who are only there for the money, who have no real connection to the club or the area. They don't know where the best chip shop or pub is, they won't tell you in private that they're too fat, old, slow or knackered (or all four) to compete any more. Your local hero might (no names!), but he's still a better footballer than you probably ever were and you should respect him, and this level of football, for that. 

 You're here, if you're anything like me, to see solid football, to see tackles that mean something, passes and goals. Yep, their goalie's crap, the floodlights are poor, the pitch is hard and lumpy and the wind off the sea is cutting you in half, but this is the real game. Nobody's doing it for much, or any, money, that tackle just generates some loud swearing rather than a theatrical attempt to get someone sent off - if he stays down he's probably broken something! If a piece of high skill is the exception rather than the rule, well we just appreciate it when it comes and we forgive the blunders because that's just human. 

The manager doesn't think he's a Tuchel or a Klopp, but he's in the same business and takes it just as seriously for those few hours, and his half-time "hairdryer" blows as hard as Fergie's ever did. The referee knows he's not Clattenberg or Dean, but don't ever doubt his commitment to his craft, or the pain that your abuse causes him. 

 No matter what the level of the game, we all go home happy, sad or "meh" at the end of it, and it's the same degree of happiness, sadness, anger or indifference no matter who we support, be it PSG, Man U, or Hassocks FC. Truly.

Thanks for reading, and as for Shoreham, we love you really. Madly, deeply,