Gregortheox
Active member
- Joined
- 8 Jan 2020
- Messages
- 728
A cheeky one, but I wrote this during lockdown as I have an interest in journalism. It relates to OUFC matches of old and the club in general. My kids were born around this time and it fell by the wayside. I use this forum a lot and I would value some feedback as there are some really good discussions on here. Your time would be much appreciated...
The phrase 'The Beautiful Game' (Portuguese: O Jogo Bonito) has been banded around by football fans, pundits and the media alike since the Great Brazilian footballer Pele popularised it decades ago. The origin of the phrase is much disputed, but its strongly linked to figures such as Brazilian footballer Didi Pereira, presenter Stuart Hall and English Author and football enthusiast H. E. Bates, who included the term in an article for the Sunday Times in 1952 called "Brains in the feet". But why is it really such a beautiful game to so many people?
The game as we know it today was rolled out by the English midway through the 19th century, although precursors of football can be traced back to the Aztecs, long before Christ walked the earth. Ever since then, it has attracted millions of people of all different kinds - from mild mannered and passive spectators to wildly active and passionate superfans, to violent and tribal hooligans. Many thousands of people view their allegiance to their football club as far more than merely a hobby or passion. It becomes an extension of their very self, with every contested tackle or header becoming a personal battle, and every result having the potential to make or break the weekend. On occasions, the atmosphere can be such that it makes a remarkable difference to the performance, and as a by-product - the result itself. There has been many a study that can confirm the impact of fans on factors such as decision making (including the decisions taken by both the players and officials that can result in more yellow and red cards), and goals scored by the home team, which both point to a certain home advantage.
Michael Appleton, currently manager of Lincoln City in League 1 of the English Football League, has talked about the 'DNA' of his teams, and Karl Robinson of Oxford United (also currently in league 1) uses data captured and analysed from not just multiple match days, but training sessions too. Of course, this is nothing new and with so much at stake in the very top echelons of the sport, that data and the way it’s analysed becomes insanely comprehensive. Opinions about the game are becoming more and more obsolete. Replacing those opinions are more studious experts, who have hard data-based evidence on tap to guide managers up and down the country on anything from starting line ups, to substitution times, to rest periods in order to optimise performance and reduce risk of injury.
But there are those of us who have not subscribed to the idea of football as purely a science. After all, science collects evidence but never the unquestionable, undeniable truth. Some of us think it's a beautiful game because it's performed by human beings with human imperfections. A game that's built on skill, improvisation, flare, primal instinct and passion, where fans can play an active part in the outcome and introduce a series of variables at any given time, often without warning. Where human beings shun the data and the evidence and go for glory with an unwavering belief, like they did down the playing fields in the summers of their childhood. Where 90 minutes of football has the potential to resemble the trials and tribulations of life itself.
I spent many an hour, firstly with my family and then as a young man on the terraces at the spiritual home of Oxford United - The Manor Ground. Even in the top division versus the current Premier League and European champions, there were only 14,000 fans in that rickety old place, but I remember the noise, the smell, the passion, the closeness of the fans to the pitch, the half-eaten burgers that on occasions were thrown like missiles at opposition players for having the nerve to try and wind up The London Road faithful, and of course some quite unbelievable nights of football where the impossible happened. You laid there exhausted in bed afterwards, head pounding, feet bruised and a throat like gravel, safe in the knowledge that together, we did it. We made a difference. We, the fans, were the 12th man that night, and in the morning, you couldn't wait to do it all over again.
During the global pandemic, I have tried to sit down in my living room to enjoy a game of football. I am finding it a real downhearted struggle. Football has temporarily changed. It looks safe, robotic and predictable through my unscientific spectacles. It seems so removed from the entertainment industry. I ask myself "The fans wouldn't allow this if they were present, would they? How could they?" The players surely need that constant seesaw of encouragement and criticism during a game. Supporters, as paying customers, have always provided the ultimate real time gauge of how their team is doing. They are the lifeblood of the club, and it always makes me curious when a manager tries to deflect fan criticism - as if all those loyal souls are wrong just because they haven't got their coaching badges.
Football during the lockdown may suit the intellectual student of the game, but that's not who it really belongs to. The game itself, like most other games, has rules, and a bunch of very talented players who for the majority of the time agree to play to them. Thankfully, in footballs case, the rule book is just the backdrop for something truly magical and unique that is incomparable to anything I've ever experienced. The real beauty is found in thousands of strangers singing together in embrace, the players with their hands above their heads showing their appreciation. It’s the routine of seeing your football buddies at the pub on a Saturday before the game, and visiting the fish and chip shop on the way home. Its players visiting cancer patients in hospital wards up and down the country, and it's the pain, laughter, anguish, tears and elation that you experience together. Football without its fans has no future. It’s a drab non-event at best.
Footballers are often skilled athletes with huge egos, and they crave adoration. The good news is that their fans are craving to adore them. They are inseparable, and when fans finally return to stadiums up and down the country, it will be like the rekindling of a passionate love affair. It will return to being The Beautiful Game that we have come to love and know. It will become football again.
The phrase 'The Beautiful Game' (Portuguese: O Jogo Bonito) has been banded around by football fans, pundits and the media alike since the Great Brazilian footballer Pele popularised it decades ago. The origin of the phrase is much disputed, but its strongly linked to figures such as Brazilian footballer Didi Pereira, presenter Stuart Hall and English Author and football enthusiast H. E. Bates, who included the term in an article for the Sunday Times in 1952 called "Brains in the feet". But why is it really such a beautiful game to so many people?
The game as we know it today was rolled out by the English midway through the 19th century, although precursors of football can be traced back to the Aztecs, long before Christ walked the earth. Ever since then, it has attracted millions of people of all different kinds - from mild mannered and passive spectators to wildly active and passionate superfans, to violent and tribal hooligans. Many thousands of people view their allegiance to their football club as far more than merely a hobby or passion. It becomes an extension of their very self, with every contested tackle or header becoming a personal battle, and every result having the potential to make or break the weekend. On occasions, the atmosphere can be such that it makes a remarkable difference to the performance, and as a by-product - the result itself. There has been many a study that can confirm the impact of fans on factors such as decision making (including the decisions taken by both the players and officials that can result in more yellow and red cards), and goals scored by the home team, which both point to a certain home advantage.
Michael Appleton, currently manager of Lincoln City in League 1 of the English Football League, has talked about the 'DNA' of his teams, and Karl Robinson of Oxford United (also currently in league 1) uses data captured and analysed from not just multiple match days, but training sessions too. Of course, this is nothing new and with so much at stake in the very top echelons of the sport, that data and the way it’s analysed becomes insanely comprehensive. Opinions about the game are becoming more and more obsolete. Replacing those opinions are more studious experts, who have hard data-based evidence on tap to guide managers up and down the country on anything from starting line ups, to substitution times, to rest periods in order to optimise performance and reduce risk of injury.
But there are those of us who have not subscribed to the idea of football as purely a science. After all, science collects evidence but never the unquestionable, undeniable truth. Some of us think it's a beautiful game because it's performed by human beings with human imperfections. A game that's built on skill, improvisation, flare, primal instinct and passion, where fans can play an active part in the outcome and introduce a series of variables at any given time, often without warning. Where human beings shun the data and the evidence and go for glory with an unwavering belief, like they did down the playing fields in the summers of their childhood. Where 90 minutes of football has the potential to resemble the trials and tribulations of life itself.
I spent many an hour, firstly with my family and then as a young man on the terraces at the spiritual home of Oxford United - The Manor Ground. Even in the top division versus the current Premier League and European champions, there were only 14,000 fans in that rickety old place, but I remember the noise, the smell, the passion, the closeness of the fans to the pitch, the half-eaten burgers that on occasions were thrown like missiles at opposition players for having the nerve to try and wind up The London Road faithful, and of course some quite unbelievable nights of football where the impossible happened. You laid there exhausted in bed afterwards, head pounding, feet bruised and a throat like gravel, safe in the knowledge that together, we did it. We made a difference. We, the fans, were the 12th man that night, and in the morning, you couldn't wait to do it all over again.
During the global pandemic, I have tried to sit down in my living room to enjoy a game of football. I am finding it a real downhearted struggle. Football has temporarily changed. It looks safe, robotic and predictable through my unscientific spectacles. It seems so removed from the entertainment industry. I ask myself "The fans wouldn't allow this if they were present, would they? How could they?" The players surely need that constant seesaw of encouragement and criticism during a game. Supporters, as paying customers, have always provided the ultimate real time gauge of how their team is doing. They are the lifeblood of the club, and it always makes me curious when a manager tries to deflect fan criticism - as if all those loyal souls are wrong just because they haven't got their coaching badges.
Football during the lockdown may suit the intellectual student of the game, but that's not who it really belongs to. The game itself, like most other games, has rules, and a bunch of very talented players who for the majority of the time agree to play to them. Thankfully, in footballs case, the rule book is just the backdrop for something truly magical and unique that is incomparable to anything I've ever experienced. The real beauty is found in thousands of strangers singing together in embrace, the players with their hands above their heads showing their appreciation. It’s the routine of seeing your football buddies at the pub on a Saturday before the game, and visiting the fish and chip shop on the way home. Its players visiting cancer patients in hospital wards up and down the country, and it's the pain, laughter, anguish, tears and elation that you experience together. Football without its fans has no future. It’s a drab non-event at best.
Footballers are often skilled athletes with huge egos, and they crave adoration. The good news is that their fans are craving to adore them. They are inseparable, and when fans finally return to stadiums up and down the country, it will be like the rekindling of a passionate love affair. It will return to being The Beautiful Game that we have come to love and know. It will become football again.
