Showing posts with label football. Show all posts
Showing posts with label football. Show all posts

Friday, 16 May 2014

Sunday kids football ... I hate the aggression of the parents.

Both my boys love football. They play every Sunday from September through to May and train every Wednesday. Over the years I have watched in rain, shine, snow and frost. I have been excited, bored, proud and annoyed, but I have always been there. Unfortunately the worst bit about watching my boys play football ... is the presence of other parents.

Despite the F.A's Respect campaign there are still large numbers of parents who watch children's football and are absolutely obnoxious.

For me, there are games where I am just relieved when the final whistle blows and we have escaped without any major arguments. The awful thing is that the aggression of the parents spills into the play of their children. Almost without fail the teams who play aggressively and dirtily are those whose parents stand on the touchline screaming at the referee and questioning every decision made.

Yesterday the referee at my son's match had to warn one of the opposition parents to be quiet or he would ask him to leave. There was no sheepish apology from an over excited dad - just a stream of "I paid me money dint I? I can say what I like!!"

One of their players, on a one on one with our goal keeper, decided that as he couldn't win the ball fairly (our goalie had picked up the ball already) he would punch the boy on the shoulder as he ran past. Our goalie went down. Luckily he hung onto the ball so no advantage was gained, but the boy was not warned, not yellow carded, not taken off by his coach. In fact the adults on his side seemed to find his actions highly amusing.

It just makes me sad that the value of sportsmanship is lost in these situations. It is all about testosterone and anger. The desire to win at any cost is all that counts and goals are met with shrieking and growling. The decisions of line judges are questioned and referees are intimidated by middle aged men who should know better.


I don't know why this is, but I know that I hate it. Personally I applaud good play from either side and expect my son to shake hands with the opposition when the match is finished. I expect fair play from both children and parents. I understand that referees and linesmen make mistakes and it is ... just a game.

The fact is that parents' attitudes impact on their children and if aggression on the part of adults is seen as acceptable then that aggression spreads to their boys. Swearing and late tackling seem to be accepted too. Both my boys had considered training as referees to earn a bit of money at the weekends, but I'm not sure if I really want them to have to undergo the abuse shouted from both the touchlines and on the pitch itself. One week the opposition parents were all drinking alcohol on the touchline as they screamed and shouted - outrageous.

We once had a man whose son played for our team and he was one of the most revolting people I have ever met. He was a bully - as mean to his own son as he was to everyone else. The rest of us as parents stood away from him and I found myself apologising for his behaviour to the opposition one day. He would scream at his son to "Break their legs!!!! Take him out!!!" He was, after calling a mother from another team "Scum!!", ejected from our club. And yet he is now to be seen "supporting" his son as he plays for another team.

I think that this is more than a "football" thing. It is an issue of education, social skills and expectations.

 Not everybody who watches kids' football is a Neanderthal. The parents of my sons' teams are nice, decent people who applaud good play from either side and support each other as well as their children as we huddle in the rain through the winter months. But the message of Respect is not getting through to all of the people and it is those people who ruin football. They are rude, disrespectful and generally obnoxious and, sadly, no amount of campaigning will change them. I will continue to be grateful at the end of each match when we have made it through safely again. And that really is outrageous.


Sunday, 28 April 2013

Kids' Football and the loneliness of the long distance mum.


One down and one to go ... I am talking about football here. As mum of two boys who are football mad I spend most of my Sundays from August through to about now swathed in outrageously michelin man stylee coats, thick scarves, beanie hats and gloves. I long ago gave up trying to look glamorous or, to be frank, even vaguely attractive. The name of the game is to make it through an hour and a half of brain numbingly cold football without developing frost bite or the latter stages of hypothermia.

I share the touchline with a group of other parents whom I would probably never recognise during the summer months. We have no idea what colour hair each of us have, no idea as to the shape of each other's faces. All we have in the way of recognisable features is a set of desperate eyes and occasionally a blue tinged nose peeping over the top of a woolly scarf.

We share a love of our children and a stoic acceptance of our fate. A fate that involves hours of frustration in the cold, interspersed by the occasional shaft of bright sunlight when the boys win ... or even just score.

There is also quite a large level of guilt. This is generally brought on by tournaments. Tournaments take the whole football thing to another level. A tournament means more than an hour and a half on the touchline ... it means possibly a whole day. This involves provision of drinks, snacks, flasks of coffee and a generous amount of chocolate ... and then of course there's the picnic for the kids. The day usually starts with an inordinate amount of optimism regarding the outcome of the competition, but as the day stretches on a parent usually finds themself wishing for losses. After all, if the team loses we all have to go home ... earlier. Unless the fiendish organisers have introduced a "Plate" competition. This is for the teams who have lost everything. Instead of having to go home to a warm house and a nice lunch they get the chance to keep on playing for a plate trophy ... along with all the other bad teams ... How lovely.

So the guilty parent outwardly enthuses about the team's performance, whilst internally they are selling their soul in the desire for it all to be over...

Don't get me wrong ... watching your children play sport can be magnificent. Winning a game can be the most exciting feeling and seeing their faces alive and alight with the joy of victory is just wonderful! But it doesn't seem to happen that often. And spending your weekends acting as taxi, supporter and then psychoanalyst can wear thin after 8 months.

Therefore it is with joy that I can say that Son #2's season has finished today. They have avoided relegation and yet won't have to cope with a tricky higher division either. Of course there will still be friendly matches well into the summer and training will continue for a while, but the pressure of having to attend every single match, no matter the weather and no matter that the opposition plays in Outer Mongolia, is over.

Now I just need Son #1's season to come to a close as well. Then I can gather my strength and spend 4 months preparing the the next season. I am thinking of treating myself to some thicker long johns and possibly a hip flask.

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Sunday, 9 January 2011

Oh joy!! I have pinged my calf muscle - any advice for speedy recovery gratefully received!

The first week of the new year has proved eventful if nothing else and I am sitting here with my right calf smeared with ibuprofen gel.My resolution of getting slim and fit was going jolly well until, whilst playing football, I made a sudden stop and turn.Immediately I felt and even sort of heard a twanging snap in my leg.Marvellous.

I don't think its anything too hideous - muscle damage only, but I had to get a lift home as I couldn't drive and right from the get go I could hardly walk. I can walk, but its at a snail's pace and with a rather strange gait.I have had my leg raised, iced and rested all evening so I am hoping for a miracle overnight cure.

Unfortunately my job involves quite a bit of striding about and I don't quite see how I am going to be doing that!There is no way that I am going to stay off work so they will just have to put up with me being slow.As I say, hopefully the morning will see my leg feeling much better. Between you and me though I think I may have done some real damage to the muscle. I hope I am wrong.

At the moment I am playing it down as I hate to be considered a whiner, but the bleeding obvious of me limping like someone who has been shot might give the game away tomorrow!The main thing I need to do is get healed as quickly as possible as I am really keen to keep up with my football and get back into my running more. Still, if I can't do those I will swim.

The hurt bit is the calf muscle on the inside of my right leg. If you have any suggestions for rapid and lasting recovery I would be very grateful to hear them!! Thank you!!

Sunday, 7 November 2010

The good the bad and the ugly - a combination of Jamie's 30 minute chicken pie and footballing misery...

Its been one of those funny old days. You know the ones that are sprinkled with the good the bad and the ugly? I suppose the good was a combination of things, including the fact that I did lots of work towards my next essay - this time about self control in Jane Eyre. Probably the best though was my Jamie Oliver chicken pie which I cooked from my new cook book 'Jamie's 30 minute meals' - the man is a genius!!



It was so quick and easy to cook but absolutely delicious - made even more so by the fact that I had to go next door to bake it. Our oven is broken and my lovely neighbour let me borrow hers. This is one of the good things about living in close proximity to ones neighbours! If we lived in a huge house down a long drive my pie would have been cold by the time I got home. This way we practically live in the same house...

The bad part of the day was the fact that my son played football.... or should I say, was supposed to be playing football. My husband took him there and the coach made him sit on the bench for the whole game. My Man had to walk away without saying anything to the coach because he was so angry and didn't trust himself to be civil.

What is it with these people? He does not play for Arsenal youth or England schoolboys. He plays for a local team and we pay £150 per annum for the privilege. This entitles him to play in every match as far as I am concerned - maybe not the whole match, but at least some of it, hopefully a half.My son dealt with all this very well. I was proud of his composure and dignity. My husband plans to phone the coach and politely ask the reason for him being left out. I can see no reason as they were winning 2 -0 by half time and ended up winning 3-0.

The ugly part of the day was probably the general grumpiness of all of us this evening.It was a domino effect caused by lack of sleep, football ( Arsenal lost too, you know)and refusal to do trumpet practise.I tried to remain chirpy, but in the face of general sulkiness and misery I surrendered and joined the mass throngs of pouting lips and grouchiness.

I won't linger on the ugly side of matters. I prefer to think about Jamie's chicken pie really - the glorious puff pastry, the creamy, mustardy tender filling... I think I may be falling in love with him!! If only I can get my oven mended I will venture into the realms of pear drop tarts - now that's a scrumptious thought to go to bed on...

Saturday, 20 March 2010

Pampered Chef, the Color Purple and nasty people...

I have had a little rest from my blogging, due to general business. I went through meltdown over my last essay on the Color Purple, worrying about whether I should even be on the course, only to get it back with one of my best marks.I have also had sleepless nights over... pathetically... my Pampered Chef party. And why? Goodness knows as it turned out to be a lovely relaxed night and I am soon to harvest the benefits of being the hostess.


I love The Color Purple and found myself enfolded by the characters from the novel as I answered my latest assignment.I was unsure as to whether I would get a reasonable mark as my confidence had dipped, but my tutor seemed to like it a lot.Speaking to one of the other students today I felt that I had been worried over nothing.I was beating myself up over only getting a low B and she was having real problems. I didn't mention my marks, but she told me that she had failed at least 2 of the assignments and only just scraped a pass in the others.I really felt for her, but inside I felt so relieved that I was on the right track after all.



I spent last week cleaning my house in preparation for my Pampered Chef party. I could not have a stranger coming to my house and opening my oven to find the wastelands of Chernobyl inside!! I don't think my kitchen, bathroom or, actually, my whole house have ever been as clean!! In the end I had ten friends who came.Five dropped out at the last minute, but the ten who came were lovely. I had stressed to them that I wanted them to relax and enjoy the evening and not feel pressured to buy anything and the Pampered Chef lady was brilliant.

In the end they did buy loads of stuff. I couldn't quite believe it when the P.C lady told me how much I was entitled to as hostess. I felt both deliciously greedy and shiver inducingly embarrassed!! All I can say is that if you get a chance to host a party... do.

On another note my son played football today in the second leg of a semi-final. We were already winning by quite a margin from the first leg and the opposition had been pretty obnoxious then. Today their tactics seemed to be those of intimidation. I just could not believe their behaviour.One father threatened the referee who sent him away from the match and one of the mothers called one of our players a 'dirty s###head'. Unbelievable! These boys are ten years old. As parents we stayed very low profile, trying to be good role models and not sink to their extremely low level.My boy's team, I can honestly say, are a nice, normal bunch of boys and girls.The opposition played aggressively, urged on by their coaches and parents, but our team did all they could to stay calm and play well and sportingly.Luckily our FA welfare officer was on hand and will be sending in a report. I have never witnessed anything like it though. My heart was beating out of my chest as I thought it would end in a fight. Dreadful.

So.Now I am going to go downstairs and relax. I might even treat myself to a glass of vino.And tomorrow I am starting my careful eating and drinking again. This week I had a relaxed week, but on Monday I plan to go running. Although I have been good and healthy with my eating and have hardly drunk any booze since Christmas I have been stuck on the same weight for a while, so I need to exercise more.Well... that's about it for now. Talk to you soon!

Sunday, 28 February 2010

Women's football - a genius thing that makes me happy!!!

I am sitting at my computer with wet hair, aching muscles and a song in my heart.I have just come back from an hour and a bit of football with my friends and I am on a high that only physical exertion can give you! Those of you who read me regularly will know that I have had ups and downs with my whole football thing. I started playing last April with a group of women, some of whom I knew and worked with, others whom I did not know.

Our coach is one of the girls' boyfriends and the aim is to have fun. We get together for an hour each week and every now and then we challenge our partners to a game or 5 a side tournament.Before Christmas I was struggling with my achilles injury and was very down on myself because I felt I just wasn't good enough.I took a few weeks out and vowed to start afresh after Christmas.

I am glad to report that since Christmas I have loved every match.I have found the sweet spot on my foot/feet and can pass the ball. I suddenly have time to stop, look up and think about either passing or dribbling. All in all I am one happy footballer!!

In my list of 10 things that make me happy ( see below ) I put down that an hour of exhausting football was one of the things that 'did it for me'.I am pleased to say that tonight I am HAPPY!!

Now... if this makes you feel like playing football.... I definitely recommend it. Its fun, it wears you out, you use all your muscles and it just..... is brilliant. Let me know if you play??

Saturday, 20 February 2010

Skiing indoors, Arsenal and chocolate

Today I had booked my 2 boys in for a ski lesson each. We travelled to a place where they have real indoor snow and piste and off they went. It has been 6 years since they skied so they were 4 and 6 the last time.They did so well today and it was brilliant to watch them. I have booked them in for more lessons in the hope that by next year when we go on our holiday they will be confident and competent!

We then hurried along to the Emirates to watch Arsenal v Sunderland.I love going there and Arsenal won 2-0 today. Yay!!!

And now a quiet evening with my Man.I am now going to make a nice pot of coffee and break out the Green and Blacks milk chocolate...

Friday, 19 February 2010

Secret housewife discovers cure for general grumpiness...

It would appear that the cure for unsettledness and general grumpy mum-ness is an hour and a half of football in the rain with your husband and boys and a new pair of black leather boots. The combination of both retail therapy and a good helping of mud, rain and running about has worked wonders.I also have to mention that yet again the wonderful Gail and Urban Cynic have lifted my spirits too.



Although I resisted the idea of going up to the field to play footie ( with all my strength) I did eventually succumb. I borrowed a pair of my son's studs ( football boots with knobbly bits on the bottom ) and headed off with them - prepared for dirt, bruises and wetness.I have discovered that I love playing in studs!! Good grief!! The grip they give you!! And it wasn't scary at all.I even did a header. Well, when I say I did a header, I mean that my Man kicked the ball about 75 feet up in the air and I attempted a header.I am told that one should head the ball on one's forehead, not, as I did, on the top of the head. This 'top of the head' heading induces what can only be described as concussion.

The black boots I mentioned are on my stubby little legs even as I type. I have had my eye on them for a while - soft black, knee length, buckles at ankle and calf top, flat heeled.... Before now I couldn't do the zips up over my well muscled calves, but yesterday... I did. They are not only a comfortable fit, but they had been reduced by £20 !!! Yippeee!!!

So... life is rosier. All I need now is to be  9 stone something instead of 10 stone on Sunday ( that's less than 140 pounds ) when I weigh myself. Oooops.... I hear you sigh... there's always something with this woman...