In 2011 it’s quite usual to see a group of women going to a football match and being every bit as fanatical and knowledgeable as the males at the match, but this is a comparatively recent development. Just a couple of decades ago, women were still very much a minority at matches and even then it seemed that many of them were just dragging along their man hoping that he would return the favour by going shopping with her the following weekend.
I was introduced to football whilst at junior school, due to the influence of my neighbour – a teenage lad whose obsession with, and knowledge of, both football and cricket was remarkable. It was down to him that I started to watch football on television (back in those days, this was only Match Of The Day late on Saturday night and the F.A. Cup Final once a year). Even this miniscule amount of viewing concerned my parents, who thought it was odd for a girl to like sport, but I was a headstrong creature and my love of the sport and my understanding of it grew quickly.
By the time I was in my teens, this was a full-blown obsession. Pop bands, actors…the other girls could keep them - my pin-ups were footballers. Even now I can remember waiting in a queue by the school hall, about to take my Spanish exam, and despite the fact that all the others were still frantically scanning through the language course book, I was nonchalantly flicking through a copy of football magazine. (I failed the exam!)
As soon as I had left school and had my own income, I wanted to go out and enjoy some football live. My parents were horrified at the very notion, so I recruited a family friend and his son, who was a little younger than me, to be my companions. The three of us went to a number of matches around our area, including nearly all of the London clubs and places like Brighton (a top division club back then). At one point, my father clearly decided that he should make an effort to try to build more of a bond with his daughter and travelled with us on a visit to Chelsea. My lasting memory of the match was being embarrassed about the bad language from the people around us that he was having to hear, and I never invited him on our football trips again!
When I left home and transferred to a new town with my work, I rapidly got to know a number of guys who were all mad about football. When the World Cup started, four of us took it in turns to host a crowd of people in our houses to watch all the major matches. I can remember seeing one World Cup Final sitting halfway up an open plan staircase as one of my friends had welcomed so many folk into his small terraced abode that it was practically standing room only! With the state of my vision these days, I’d very possibly want binoculars or Laser eye surgery just to be able to focus on the screen now!
However, there was a basic group of five of us, and as this was back in the days when there were regularly matches on a Wednesday night, we often attended a midweek match when we’d finished work. in the south eastern part of England gave us a wide range of clubs to watch, from the First Division (as the top division was known before the days of Sky’s involvement) through to a reasonable quality of non-league teams. It was hugely therapeutic to get to the middle of the working week in a not very pleasant job and then stand on the terraces and clear out pent-up worries or anger by shouting at the referee and applauding the players. (I see football chants have never moved on from the ref being asked if he is blind? In this decade, with such vast sums of money and sponsorship involved, surelysupporters should be asking if he needs Laser eye surgery? To be honest, I’m amazed that the authorities haven’t already signed up a sponsor who will fund Laser eye treatment as part of the deal!)
the years passed, the members of our little gang progressed to other jobs in other areas and the football trips ceased, although I occasionally turned up to watch a local team with another mate who generally went on his own, and who was keen to have company sometimes. Even that arrangement ceased when he moved to the north of England, and I returned to watching football on television just like I did in the first place. However, the over commercialisation and endless saturation coverage on satellite television, as well as the blunt refusal to embrace Laser eye or similar technology to improve decision making, gradually made me fall out of love with the game. I totally lost interest in it.
That is, until recently. My closest female friend has always hated football, and having put up with me telling her countless times that it is completely different live to how it is depicted on television, she finally announced that she would like to go and watch a match with me. I let her decide what team she wanted to follow, as she had two nearby league sides to choose from and then I booked the tickets. Knowing that she had no knowledge of the rules, I discreetly outlined the referee’s decisions for her and pointed out things that she might not have noticed. By full time, she was desperate to watch another game. And, on the occasions when time and money permit, we’ve been turning up ever since!
I was introduced to football whilst at junior school, due to the influence of my neighbour – a teenage lad whose obsession with, and knowledge of, both football and cricket was remarkable. It was down to him that I started to watch football on television (back in those days, this was only Match Of The Day late on Saturday night and the F.A. Cup Final once a year). Even this miniscule amount of viewing concerned my parents, who thought it was odd for a girl to like sport, but I was a headstrong creature and my love of the sport and my understanding of it grew quickly.
By the time I was in my teens, this was a full-blown obsession. Pop bands, actors…the other girls could keep them - my pin-ups were footballers. Even now I can remember waiting in a queue by the school hall, about to take my Spanish exam, and despite the fact that all the others were still frantically scanning through the language course book, I was nonchalantly flicking through a copy of football magazine. (I failed the exam!)
As soon as I had left school and had my own income, I wanted to go out and enjoy some football live. My parents were horrified at the very notion, so I recruited a family friend and his son, who was a little younger than me, to be my companions. The three of us went to a number of matches around our area, including nearly all of the London clubs and places like Brighton (a top division club back then). At one point, my father clearly decided that he should make an effort to try to build more of a bond with his daughter and travelled with us on a visit to Chelsea. My lasting memory of the match was being embarrassed about the bad language from the people around us that he was having to hear, and I never invited him on our football trips again!
When I left home and transferred to a new town with my work, I rapidly got to know a number of guys who were all mad about football. When the World Cup started, four of us took it in turns to host a crowd of people in our houses to watch all the major matches. I can remember seeing one World Cup Final sitting halfway up an open plan staircase as one of my friends had welcomed so many folk into his small terraced abode that it was practically standing room only! With the state of my vision these days, I’d very possibly want binoculars or Laser eye surgery just to be able to focus on the screen now!
However, there was a basic group of five of us, and as this was back in the days when there were regularly matches on a Wednesday night, we often attended a midweek match when we’d finished work. in the south eastern part of England gave us a wide range of clubs to watch, from the First Division (as the top division was known before the days of Sky’s involvement) through to a reasonable quality of non-league teams. It was hugely therapeutic to get to the middle of the working week in a not very pleasant job and then stand on the terraces and clear out pent-up worries or anger by shouting at the referee and applauding the players. (I see football chants have never moved on from the ref being asked if he is blind? In this decade, with such vast sums of money and sponsorship involved, surelysupporters should be asking if he needs Laser eye surgery? To be honest, I’m amazed that the authorities haven’t already signed up a sponsor who will fund Laser eye treatment as part of the deal!)
the years passed, the members of our little gang progressed to other jobs in other areas and the football trips ceased, although I occasionally turned up to watch a local team with another mate who generally went on his own, and who was keen to have company sometimes. Even that arrangement ceased when he moved to the north of England, and I returned to watching football on television just like I did in the first place. However, the over commercialisation and endless saturation coverage on satellite television, as well as the blunt refusal to embrace Laser eye or similar technology to improve decision making, gradually made me fall out of love with the game. I totally lost interest in it.
That is, until recently. My closest female friend has always hated football, and having put up with me telling her countless times that it is completely different live to how it is depicted on television, she finally announced that she would like to go and watch a match with me. I let her decide what team she wanted to follow, as she had two nearby league sides to choose from and then I booked the tickets. Knowing that she had no knowledge of the rules, I discreetly outlined the referee’s decisions for her and pointed out things that she might not have noticed. By full time, she was desperate to watch another game. And, on the occasions when time and money permit, we’ve been turning up ever since!
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