My free trial (the third such trial) of ESPN has recently ended, and the evil overlords of Sky insist on cancelling the channel by telephone. So I have to wait twenty minutes to be connected, listening to muzak, while being assured my call is important. But what I didn't expect was to spend longer talking to the Sky agent, not being persuaded to keep paying £10 a month for the channel, but talking about the perils of modern football and why Rangers were hung out to dry by the powers that be.
Not the Brazilian fan the TV cameras hoped for
I've no huge liking of Scottish football, my north of the border team is Stranraer (currently bottom of the second division, they were promoted out of the third division to accommodate Rangers). But to be kept talking to a man I'd never met is a feat in itself, and the reason was football. If he'd asked about the state of the economy, X-Factor or the weather, he'd have been met with short shrift. But after confirming that it wasn't costing me money, I happily rattled on for half an hour until realising my dinner was slowly cremating.
No matter where you go in the world, and I've been all over the place, you can always talk football. In America the talk was of the image of the MLS in England (improving). In Finland the questions were about whether Liverpool will ever return to their best (no). In Canada they assume you know David Beckham because you have a London accent.
A flaming @*?!
Footballers play all over the globe without bothering to learn the lingo. Carlos Tevez barely speaks any English despite being here since 2006. Perhaps the reason so few English players go abroad is partly down to language.
In this festive season of parties and forced joy, the men can be left alone knowing that eventually the talk will be of whatever game is on the telly. I'll be meeting the husband of my wife's friend on Sunday, and I know he's a Spurs fan. Both teams are in action this weekend so results are crucial, but I can always make sure I ask him the time at 6.55, 7.55, 8.55, safe in the knowledge he'll repeat the score of the recent North London derby.
Sorry, did you say it was five to?
Next time you go travelling, leave the phrasebook behind. Don't worry about the culture. Just remember the name of that country's most famous footballer and you'll be fine.
Just don't follow the more retro customs of spitting (Holland 1990), head-butting (France 2006) or taking a free-kick you're supposed to defend (Zaire 1974)...
