I was collared by a soccer fan in the kitchen at work this afternoon. He asked me if I’d seen the England v Trinidad and Tobago match last night. I said I’d caught the last 20 minutes. We agreed that our lads played like a bunch of girls. We then proceeded to have an entire conversation about football.
I must have acquitted myself rather well, as my colleague clearly didn’t twig that I hadn’t the faintest idea what I was talking about. Hell, I even managed to slip in a reference to the Republic of Ireland’s adoption of the long-ball game in a previous tournament. I heard Jackie Charlton mention it on Desert Island Discs.
I’m not entirely sure what the long-ball game is (I suspect the clue’s in the name), but I reckon it’s time our bunch of girls adopted it. If it’s good enough for Big Jack, then it’s good enough for England.
See also: My photos from Tobago on Flickr
Don’t worry. Most people who talk about sport haven’t a clue what they’re talking about either.
The same applies to music journalists!
I thought the long ball game refered to rugby.
Oh, that would explain a lot. But why would Big Jack want to coach rugby? He knows as much about rugby as I know about football.
He doesn’t. It was a joke. ‘Long’ ball. Oh, never mind.
Believe it or not, my reply was intended as a joke as well. I don’t think either of us should give up our day jobs.
So, just what do you do for a living?
Something to do with asbestos?