Anybody that knows me will tell you (if ever asked, inexplicably) that I talk an awful lot about football. The art of kicking a spherical leather object into a large net has fascinated me from the age of six, about as far back as I can remember, and I chronicle most of the events of my fairly short, mundane life by the significant events I have witnessed whilst following my chosen football team around the country.
I say my *chosen* team, but in reality I don’t think much choice went into it. Indeed, the average six-year-old would probably not, if given the opportunity, ‘choose’ to start following a Nationwide Conference team at their lowest ebb for 76 years. Fortunately, most six-year-old children don’t even know what an “ebb” is, so little tangible thought goes into the decision to take up the watching of 22 men kicking a ball around a pitch. One day in August of 1999, spurred on by my new found love of Shoot! magazine, I asked my dad if I could join him as he went out to go and watch Doncaster Rovers, a team he had supported himself through thick and a whole lot of thin since the early 1970’s. He obliged and the rest, as they say, is history.
Football has given me endless bouts of joy over the intervening 16 years, along with helpings of sadness, anger, confusion, excitement and almost every other emotion under the sun. It is for that reason that I have decided to turn my never-ending commentary on the sport into something in written form, as opposed to spouting off about a topic I have less knowledge or interest in. The aim of this page is not to cause controversy or break any ground in particular, but is merely to throw my hat into the ring of online writers in the British football community, if there is still such a thing.
I do not aim only to cover Doncaster Rovers either. Though they are my team and primary focus when it comes to football, there are a great many issues and incidents going on around the world in the sport, and plenty worth debating from the heady heights of FIFA’s embittered headquarters right through to the survival struggle of amateur sides in England’s non-leagues.
For now, let me just point you in the direction of perhaps the best example of that aforementioned ‘joy’ that football has provided for me in the past decade and a half. The crucial bit is at 2:50…
“…Coppinger puts it into the empty net, and Doncaster have won promotion to the Championship! The flares go off in the away end. What drama!”