City Editor Neil Martin is as shocked as anyone, but wonders why football is now the falling down game.
I have to admit, I’m not a great football fan. It stems from an early age when my feet were too big and when shod in football boots, it looked like I was running around in clown’s shoes. I played like a clown as well. I switched to rugby, which just involved picking up the ball and running.
And I haven’t watched a football match in years, so when I stared at the game last night, I couldn’t quite believe my eyes. Why do footballers fall over at a drop of a hat? Why all the histrionics every time someone comes even remotely close?
It wasn’t football, it was more like synchronised swimming crossed with amateur dramatics. These guys could give a 1920s silent movie star a run for their money. After each fall and death-throes on the pitch, I thought the director would rush on and shout cut, followed by the make-up artist and hairdresser.
And why do they complain so much? The Columbian who gave away the second half penalty was so over the English player, that I thought matrimony would have to be considered. And he did this right in front of US referee, who couldn’t fail to notice the infringement even he had been dead (he obviously had gone to SpecSavers). And then the offending player spends about five minutes protesting his innocent. What! About a billion people saw him do it and he’s busy going off like he’d just been sent to death row.
If I’d been that referee, the first player down recreating a scene from Hamlet would have been shown the red card, with the words, “…you want to take up acting mate, go and join the Old Vic.”
So, here’s the best of luck for the match against Sweden, but please, less drama this time!
