The Beautiful Game

Football Fanaticism Explained.

No, no - don't minimize that window just yet, buddy.

And if you're the opposite gender to the norm, don't close the window just yet, babe.

Hear me out. This is worth it.

Ego Turtle is about to unravel the myths of fanaticism in football and whether you're one of those lacking-testosterone-lame-uber-i'm-one-level-higher-kinda-guys who thinks the "beautiful game" is "boring" and is unworthy of their attentions or just another female who rolls her eyes come Saturday nights or when your boyfriend phases out and goes ultimo-footie-mode and totally ignores you for the dead - I'll explain the term later - then this is the article for you!

Football Fanaticism

Definition: a feeling or emotion of being overloaded with exorbitant, undiscriminated zeal, unreasonable-ness during 'match-days' and a total lack of regard for anything else in that period of time, particularly for an extreme footballing/sporting cause.

Sypnosis

So I was at a my '2nd most lucky' coffee shop (don't ask - long story) last Sunday watching the Chelsea-Man Utd spectacle with a couple of football crazy friends.

For the benefit of detail and proven amicability and harmony (in neutral situations, at least, meaning when none of our teams are facing each other) between those who unite for the power of football - among us were dreaded Newcastle supporters, AC Milan fanatics and Liverpool enthuthiasts, which kinda says a lot for the level of support that football has in this country since I can confirm that not a one Italian or Englishman or anything remotely foreign was present at Lo Yao.

Yours truly, of course - as has been well documented in a few of his footie-related posts - is quite possibly the greatest United fan the world has ever seen.

Now, first things first, you're probably thinking - 'you're calling me lame and boring when you're out watching 22 sweaty guys kicking a ball around on a Saturday night at a coffee shop?!'

Or, 'Dude, seriously. Get a life. A girl. A guy. Anything. Whatever tickles your fancy. "

I see your thoughts and I, on behalf of the football-mad nation, hurl it right back at ya with this:

Priorities In Life

Back to the story. My palms were already sweaty from nervous perspiration, even as the match had barely started. Now, I'm as cool as they come but when it comes to my allegiance to United against my most hated football club in the form of Chelsea, you gotta be a trifle nervous.

My friend, a backstabbing former United fan who's now an avid AC Milan supporter noted this.

Backstabbing United Fan: "Come on, bro! Chill out... let's drink some beer."

I declined aggressively because 1) I'm not particularly fond of beer. It has something to do with my stomach capacity. My affinity is more with spirits; and 2) There's just no telling what I'd do in that drunken state of stupor IF things didn't quite go my way during the match because I was pretty damned sure there was gonna be a lot of dissing involved and in the presence of butter knives (from the western food stalls) and beer bottles - well, let's just say it wasn't a very good idea.

The atmosphere at the coffee shop - you'll be surprised - was breathtaking. All eyes were glued on the big projector at the front.

Then in the 18th minute, all hell broke loose.

Hell, I'd almost toppled the table over when Korean Park Ji-Sung netted a goal for United. Without shame, I roared at the top of my lungs, clenched my fists in an act of defiance to my rivals and sat down, sheepishly, albeit with a look of smug satisfaction. Realizing that I'd overdone it, I proceeded to conceal my sudden burst of emotions and apparent glee by taking a sip of my Teh-C-Peng - all at a local coffee shop, mind you.

Such was the intensity of the game.

But it pretty much went downhill from then on.

A United Fan Mirroring My Image That Night

Chelsea proceeded to dominate the game (yes, I admit it), scored an equalizer (much to my ultimate chagrin) and everyone gave me shit and the game ended 1-1.

Needless to say, I felt like shit.

Oh, and it didn't stop there. Football fans are an evil lot, believe me. They totally believe that a victory gives them the right to pour salt on already mortal wounds - hence the local saying "You win, you give me shit. I win, I give you shit. The ball is round and fair is fair."

So in an act of fitting retribution from my earlier disses, another one of my friends (a hardcore Liverpool supporter) who was sitting on another table turned back, winked at me, gave me a holier-than-thou look and proceeded to toast all the non-Man United fans on my table.

I soaked it in. All the degradations. All the disses; the insults. I soaked it all in.

Such was the parts and parcels of football fanaticism.

Actually, it felt very much like last week when United lost to Liverpool when I'd received a dozen or so text messages on my mobile, sarcastically 'congratulating' me on my loss; when Old and Game Turtles (who are also self-confessed Liverpool fanatics) didn't hold back on the battering of insults.

I'd even tried to defend myself.

Ego Turtle: "It's the first time we (Man Utd) lost in seven years at Anfield! Just because you won once, that gives you the right to talk?"

Old and Game Turtles (in unison, with that irritating grin plastered on their faces): "Yes, it does!"

To which, I had no reply.

This is why it's called The Beautiful Game. It's what makes it so special in the heart of football fans. The range of emotions, the ups and downs, the exhiliration, euphoria and surprises.

It is incomparable.

As Winston Churchill once said, "A fanatic is one who won't change his mind and won't change the subject."

And I say, well said, Winston.