That's food and drink to this striker...

If only the players on the pitch were made to eat the food served to their adoring fans... Would a hand-crafted chicken balti pie keep Sergio Aguero in shape? Or maybe a footlong hotdog would help David de Gea pad out his shirts. Those Fulham jerseys would never have even been invented, they certainly aren't designed with the average fan in mind.

But food is a major part of the matchday experience. It's a big earner for clubs, superstition for some fans, and just an excuse to soak up lager for others. The half-time queues require people to leave their seats minutes before the whistle. The noise of someone grazing on nachos is something you have to get used to. The smell of the questionable burger. They're all still there, but football is a showcase.

 

Ramsay claimed to play for Rangers      Man Utd Norwich chairwoman Delia Smith

You can dine at Marco Pierre White at Chelsea. Raymond Blanc is found in the Diamond Club at Arsenal. But the average fan just wants to be fed, and they pay well even for the basic slop. Burger with 'ash braaaan and bacon and onions? Laaaavely. Maybe the clubs should be more inventive, like this pie...

I have thought carefully to ensure I don't make a joke about eating all the pies, but I couldn't not add this photo, of someone who clearly did indulge in terrace cuisine.

We paid for your hats - Policing at football

Certain institutions have an almighty say in the running of football these days. Television. Sponsors. The Police. We all have our opinions of them, whether it's annoyance, acceptance or gratitude. But where would we be without them?

Growing up in the mid-1980s, you'd wonder if any of them existed at all. You'd be lucky to get a handful of club games on the telly, in the days of 4 channels, pre-Sky. They'd be the FA Cup final, maybe the European cup final, and the odd league game. Division One was sponsored by Canon, then Barclays. So anonymous that they'd need to provide an extra trophy so that anyone would notice. Policing was a big talking point, but by some of the issues going on, in and out of the ground, you'd barely notice they existed, other than to protect the dignity of those who had a sudden compulsion to take their clothes off...

 

A bobby's helmet saves the day again

These days it's different. A match can't go ahead without Police say-so. Kick-off times are moved to reduce the risk of disorder. Match days are moved to prevent rival clubs clashing. In 2010, a match between Chester and Wrexham was postponed due to Chester's inability to pay for the costs of the Police.

English football is seen as a world leader in public order Policing, the giant strides taken have made a football stadium (and surroundings) a much safer place to be. Legislation, money and a willingness to change were required, but nowadays, you'd be hard pressed to find trouble. Even if you do find it, a swathe of CCTV and evidence gathering will go a long way to sorting you out. Plus, a halo of yellow jackets will find you.

 

Welcome to London

So next time you think that you'd rather be thrown in a cage during a match in order to 'sort it out like men', be grateful that coppers today are more Sam Tyler than Gene Hunt...

Straight outta Compton - Football v Cricket

Football and cricket have always been somewhat kindred spirits, despite the lack of similarities. They have dovetailed quite nicely, football in winter, cricket in summer (but perhaps these days not so much, with internationals and European qualifiers, it's fair to say that football is almost a year round event).

Some of the finest sportsmen in this country have played both to high levels, Arsenal legend Denis Compton would swap shinpads for Middlesex cricket pads in the summer, although one wonders how his Brylcreemed hair would deal with today's helmets. Ian Botham also turned out for Scunthorpe.

Compton was not just an all rounder in sport, but an all rounder in cricket, both a batsman and a bowler. So much for dead-ball specialist, the man was a master of all trades. Perhaps more the cricketer, but still, an equivalent of Alastair Cook being on the fringes of the Arsenal team.

But imagine if such things were common today? Football these days is such a lucrative field, that you can't imagine many sports club allowing their stars to turn out in a sport where a hard ball is bounced at the head at 90mph. But what if?

Wayne Rooney coming out to bat at the Old Trafford of Lancashire CCC, not Manchester United... David Seaman behind the stumps at Lords? Or John Terry berating the umpire for a no ball rather than the award of a throw in. Three Lions indeed.

Perhaps it's pining for the days when our heroes were so versatile, and we couldn't wait to see them. Maybe we should see some sort of alternative competition, with England's footballers lining up against their Australian counterparts in a number of games, football, cricket and rugby, it may be close!

Or we could just have a quick choice between these ads, and wonder if a Mad Men poster would beat the recent Brylcreem boy, the somewhat less classy Kevin Pietersen...

I know which look I'd rather go for! Tally ho!

Art imitating life - football video games

Computer games have evolved an awful lot since the days of Pong, Space Invaders and Donkey Kong. We now have video games with budgets and marketing like a Hollywood blockbuster, with casts to match. You can play games against schoolboys from Japan (and get soundly beaten), a group of mates from work, or against the computer itself.

But football games took a while to get going. Playing a game with blocks representing players, a ball that looked like the boulder from Raiders of the Lost Ark, and noises that wouldn't sound out of place in a Kraftwerk album, and that was just the crowd cheering.

But there was an inherent charm, of the exact spot on the pitch from where you could score every time. Maybe it was the slightly dodgy names for games that didn't pay for the real things, such as Palm (Pele), Bemkap (Bergkamp) or Filler (Robbie Fowler).

We now have the 'experiences' of FIFA, Football Manager and Pro Evo. Players who look more realistic than before, they mimic real players, and can be adapted to have the latest boots, kits and haircuts (Rooney's new carpet will be an interesting sight). There are then the videos of people playing games that surface on YouTube, and of people mimicking incidents, last week's Torres sitter being an example.

But can the games get any more realistic? Chelsea and Man City have obviously used the old money cheats on Championship Manager to buy top players, while Lionel Messi already plays as though he is being controlled by a dextrous 12 year old powered by sugar and caffeine. Managers sign players they've never heard of based on statistics. The home fans at Stamford Bridge do appear to have a mute button.

Maybe the answer is to go retro. You can play 1980s Championship Manager on iPhone (signing a 15 year old Van Basten for Coventry makes good sense surely?). Download an old version of Sensible Soccer for PC and play with the famous Arsenal back four, or England in Euro 96.

Or save your money and go and watch your local team. Because there's no balti pie option on FIFA 12. Yet...

Neutral fans + assists = Fantasy football

Sunderland 4, Stoke 0.
Swansea 3, West Brom 0.
Wolves 0, QPR 3.

To the neutral, these scores would mean very little, bar to perhaps local rivals and those who spend their days in the bookies, feeling like giants with the little pens.

But since the mid 1990s, something happened to football that suddenly made every game important. And not just the result. But who played, for how long, and whether they were a good boy or not.

Fantasy Football.

These three men are the front of this revolution:

Frank Skinner, a fairly popular Midlands comedian.
Angus 'Statto' Loughran, an odds-man more associated with horse racing.
David Baddiel, perhaps best known for dressing up as an old man saying to another, making jokes about "Your mum".

A cultural phenomenon, that brought to our screens Karren Brady, Jeff Astle and a man with a pineapple for a hairdo. It led to Three Lions, the England Euro 96 anthem. Friday nights on BBC2 were never the same.

But the days of the Internet, fantasy football has even more relevance. No longer do we have to post our transfer cards every week, or pretend to be posh when as a 14 year old, we need to purchase a Daily Telegraph on a Thursday for the latest points update. Just a quick check on the smartphone and our weekend's captain is selected.

We spend hours investigating whether our Columbian centre forward got the final pass before a goal. Or whether our injury prone winger played 59 minutes or the full hour. We spent hours picking a team, trying not to let hearts rule heads, convincing ourselves that if we leave Jermain Defoe in for another week, he may just hit form...

And of course, the 'comedy' names. AC Alittlesilhoutteofaman, Sporting Lesbian and Nothing Toulouse.

The average boss is probably wise. Unless he generally thinks that your annual expenses form now resembles this:

For the sake of office rivalry, in the Personnel mini-league, first is everything. Second is nothing. Or sometimes a fiver. This weekend my super Sunday is QPR v Aston Villa.

Eat that Sky.

What's your number?

English football has an affection with it's old traditions, whether they're good, bad or ugly. Abide With Me at the FA Cup finals. The magic sponge. Iain Dowie.

One tradition that has soldiered on from the earliest days is the numbering of shirts, first used in 1928 in a match between Sheffield Wednesday and Arsenal, with home team wearing 1-11, the away team 12-22. When numbers became more common, they were assigned by position, and continued to do so in the English top flight until the mid 1990s, when squad numbers were introduced in the cup finals of 1993, also between Wednesday and the Gunners (along with names).

Using the classic English system, Arsenal as an example, that'd mean the following line-up:

That Monday feeling...

We dread going back to work. The rat race, the daily grind. We have to come down from spending our weekends with loved ones, friends and doing things we love. But there's one thing that football fans dread on the return to work...

Colleagues. The reminders of the weekend's scores. Your team lost 5-0 to your local rivals? This could be awaiting you at the first meeting.

We all do it. The poor sod walks into his computer covered in printouts of the score in font 80. Newspaper clippings.

But what happens when it all stops? Your beloved eleven men have taken beatings over such a prolonged period that even your workmates take sympathy. They even pity you. That's when you know it's bad.

But how do you recover? Pray the manager/players change? Or just stick two fingers up at them (perhaps in your mind, unless you work at Viz)... If someone ever finds the secret, they'll make millions.

So just stick it out, by Tuesday they'll forget all about it. Just hope that your team sneak through that home tie in the Carling Cup against the underdogs, or else it'll also be that Wednesday feeling.

White socks in football

White socks. A staple in a man's drawer. A fashion faux pas along with double denim, mirrored baseball caps and short sleeved shirts with ties.

Aston Villa fans have tried a campaign to stop white socks in their team's home colours for this season, albeit perhaps not with much success, 1897 views so far...

Ruud Gullit brought a lot of things to our shores. 'Sexy football', dreadlock wigs on the terraces, and the popular idea of his teams wearing white socks. He claims it worked for Milan. Various theories remain, that it brought luck, or a claim that it helps players pick out team-mates easier. Chelsea boss Tommy Docherty also did it in the 1960s, and white socks tend to come back into vogue every so often.

Arsenal these days tend to alternate between red and white, depending on the opposition. Man Utd famously have black socks for home, only changing to white in case of a clash or Europe, and it's done ok for them, as the 1999 Champion's League final shows.

Funnily enough, white socks at Newcastle are nowadays thought of as unlucky, except in perhaps the more retro bars of the Bigg Market... Along with the double denim.