feeling listless

Life Time then to tell the story of why I don't like football, in other words, this was the match which put me off football for life, Everton vs. Manchester United FA Cup Final 1985. Although I wasn’t an avid follower of football, I did watch the live matches on television and turned on every year for the build up (the speculating, the video clips about the players) and then the match. Actually I only ever watched when a Merseyside team was involved, but during the Eighties this seemed like every year. I’d become an Evertonian in a family of Liverpudians because of the influence of my Nin (Gran to other people). She’d died the year before and whether my young brain thought that they boys should be winning this one for her I’m not sure. But for some reason I was extra specially excited about this match. I remember sitting in the living room on the edge of the couch shaking and rocking. And the match played. I don’t actually remember the match itself.

I remember getting tenser and tenser eith each passing minute, because Everton would not score. I was screaming “Score” at the screen. I think I must have said something like ‘They have to win, they have to win’. I think it went into injury time. Then Manchester United scored. I was annoyed but I kept will the team. Then the final whistle blew. I ran outside into the back garden. And started to cry and scream. My Mum came out to comfort me and I remember just asking her over and over “Why didn’t they win? Why didn’t they win?” There wasn’t really anything she could say. But I didn’t watch as much football after that. I think it was because of the amount of emotion which got piled in with so little in return. I know for some people that’s the story of their fandom, but I didn’t want to know. Which as you can imagine makes pub conversations fun for people – right now I’ve absolutely no idea who the Everton manager is.