The Football Fan
My friend Dave is a decent chap. Soft spoken, mild mannered, courteous with a good job, he is the type, I suspect, any girl would love to take home to meet her parents. But like all people, he too has a side that is well hidden from the outside world - his Achilles heel is football. And his team is Manchester United. Every time a match approaches, you can sense a subtle change taking place in Dave. A certain restlessness, a disturbance in his normally calm nature that is hard to pinpoint. This reaches a crescendo on the day before the big match. Heaven help you, if you happen to cross him at this stage -Jekyll and Hyde will seem like missionaries!
On the day of the match, you will find him glued to the TV if the actual location is too far to get to. Of course, the first choice is to get a ticket for the venue. Right at the kick-off, he turns into a raving, ranting, screaming madman exhorting his team to pass, feint, kick or head the ball. It is not beneath him to yell, quite colourfully, at the players to retort to methods that are not exactly looked on with approval. A miss on the part of any player results in madman like behaviour that would, to put it mildly, result in grievous damage to changing room furniture if he were to be allowed in there.
Now the stadium would certainly have people who root for the other team too, right? Wrong, if you are with Dave. Woes betide if any man or beast who even so much as whispers encouragement to the other team. This does not often go down well with many and there are times when this nice guy has come back with a bloodied nose, a blackened eye and other sundry bruises! I sincerely hope he marries into a family that supports Manchester United!
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