Tag Archives: sport

Dear Football

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This is a love letter. To the ‘Beautiful Game’, as they call you.

We’re certainly in love with you at Shrewsbury.  Salopians had a hand in drafting the original rules of the game.  Blackburn Rovers took their colours from Shrewsbury School. 

We’re in a long-term relationship: it’s a faithful marriage that is also a love affair.

History records that only four schools have won both the English Schools’ U18 FA Cup and the Independent Schools FA Cup.  Shrewsbury is one of them.  Having reached the final of the ESFA in 2023, our boys went one better the following year, winning the Cup in a thrilling final at the Bet365 stadium (home of Championship side Stoke City) in May 2024.

Football – like all competitive sport – feeds on hope.  It brings so many of life’s emotions into its rectangle of grass.  At its best, it creates meaning, belonging, joy. Moments of shared disappointment and despair too. Controversy. Disputed decisions. VAR…

The exquisite simplicity of the scoring system amplifies this commotion of emotion.

Defeat stings. The last minute goal. The dip in form. The injury list. The dodgy signing. The clean sheet sullied. The open goal missed. The penalty fluffed.

And the penalty saved!

Because always, it seems, the wellspring of hope is refreshed. The love flows again.

Moments of individual brilliance. The training ground move that clicks. The team goal. The giant-killing. The comeback. The eerie silence, all eyes fixed, breath held, as ball heads toward net. The 98th minute winner. The ecstasy!

At its worst, of course, it can attract jingoism, tribalism, ugliness, violence.  Dissent and disagreement. Disrespect for authority. There are times when we might wish for more ‘rugby-style’ respect for the ref. There are times when we might feel the game is going to the dogs. That money, TV rights, and all the trappings of fame, the daily media circus, have made the game lose its way.

Football is a results business, as the coaches, managers and pundits often say. The ability to grind out wins may trump playing the game beautifully. But, it is the way we play that really matters – surely…? (Tell that to Shrewsbury Town, currently rooted to the foot of the League 1 table [12 December 2024] with 11 points from 18 games….).

All the more significant then, that at Shrewsbury School, it is not so much the results that we celebrate – though there is much to cheer in both our girls’ and boys’ programme.

Rather, and above all, it is the culture on and off the pitch that makes me rejoice.  The values upheld by the coaching staff.  The loyal but respectful support of the crowd.  The commitment to passionate but fair play.  The attitude to training. 

The beautiful fact is that everyone, at whatever level, boy or girl, junior or senior, can always improve.

And so, we stay in love with the beautiful game.

Shrewsbury School crowned ESFA U18 National Champions | News | Shrewsbury School

Afternote:

All games are beautiful to me! See Dear Cricket. And others to follow…

Dear Cricket

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This is a love letter.

You know the old saying: ‘Out of sight, out of mind”?  Well, that couldn’t be further from the truth for me.  The longer you are away, the more I miss you.  Every saying has its opposite.  With you, it’s definitely a matter of ‘Absence makes the heart grow fonder’.

It’s just not the same without you.  Summer is on its way and the stage is set.  And yes, of course, I completely understand why you can’t be here.  It’s not your fault.  You are a stickler for the rules and are rightly taking your responsibilities seriously.  I know we need to do the right thing and stay apart.

My head tells me this.  Of course, it does.  But my heart?  It longs for you.

I miss the sight of you.  The theatre of green in which you play out your many acts.  The drama of each moment, rich with potential, as something might happen, or not, with the very next ball.  The eager mobilisation of the players, white-clad on the green grass, at the end of the over.

I miss the sound of you.  The thud of ball on ‘deck’; the solid ‘thock’ of willow on leather that sets off a soothing ripple of applause.  The charged, low rev, anticipatory silence between balls.  The slow-moving silence of quiet overs, where sleep seems just around the corner.  The eruption of a wicket.  The sporting greeting of seeing a new adversary to the crease.  The push and pull of players calling to each other.  ‘Come on buddy’.  ‘Next ball’.  ‘Nice areas’.  You can be quite noisy too.  Remember Saturdays at Headingley.  Quite the party animal…

I miss the shape of you. Whether it’s the Friday night friskiness of T20 or the sedate Sunday best of a test.  Or on your days off, casually attired in the back garden.  You look great in anything, really.  I was looking forward to seeing you in your new Hundred get-up. 

I miss the smell of you.  Cut grass.  Linseed oil.  The occasional waft of beer or ice cream on a gentle summer breeze.  Other people’s fancy picnics.

I miss the way you talk.  All stats and facts; and poetry and jokes and random diversions; the idle chat; the shared speculation. 

And, your greatest charm: uncertainty of outcome.

View of the playing fields at Shrewsbury. A perfect setting in which to watch and play cricket.

It’s true, I’m remembering the very best of you.  The perfect days we had together.  You do have your moments: rainy days when the covers stay on and you refuse to come out to play; dull days when you can’t find a way to make life interesting.  Honestly, though, those grey days don’t linger in the memory. 

And until you do, I’m going to read your old love letters.  I shan’t dwell on the difficult days.  I’m going to look at photos and films of what we did last summer.  Lord’s, then Headingley.  Wow.  Or our trips to Australia – say, Melbourne 2010?  Other happy times at home: Edgbaston or Old Trafford in 2005.  Or back again to Headingley, in 1981, when we were just starting out together.  Ah, those early days… 

And so on, I’ll keep playing back the memories until you’re back here by my side.

A summer without you?  It’s just not cricket.  So, please, come back soon. 

[Written during the first COVID-19 Lockdown of 2020. A summer when there was no cricket in England – even though it is a game well-suited to social distancing!]