I’ve never understood why football means so much to me.
Playing, yes, makes sense. It’s fun and keeps you fit.
Watching and supporting twenty-two grown men kick a ball around? There is art, some beauty, lots of unpleasantness. There are stories, lots of stories. There is emotion. Yes, there is also community, a common currency for conversation. But all in all, it delivers little of real value and in fact perhaps takes something away with the passion and energy it consumes.
Some people feel an affinity for a local team. Many more support the biggest clubs, including myself. I don’t know why.
I know it’s pointless, I just can’t stop myself.