EWAN’S BLOG – ALMOST 3 Years Old Let’s Talk Football
I am almost three years old and the biggest major decision that will colour my life and give it a focal point occurred last Thursday. I will forever look back on Thursday 4th January 2018 and say that is the day it happened!
The start of my International, no Global football career.
Yes, I started football training for two/three year olds. It marked the start of a spectacular career in football.
How do I know at this stage? Because Grandad told me. Always have a dream, if you do not have a dream how you gonna havet a dream come true, he says. Dream it and you can do it. Aim for the stars. Always do your best. Always aim for the top. Always have a passion. And put 110% into your passion. And make sure you are the very best in your chosen subject. Make it happen.
He tells me all of these things, I’m not sure how he finds time to say anything else worthwhile. But then again I suppose he doesn’t.
I love balls, I like the way they bounce and roll and are round. I love throwing and I love kicking and balls are the only thing that you are allowed to legitimately throw or kick. I thought I’d picked up football pretty well. I thought I had a natural inbuilt instinct for it but Mum and Dad decided I needed professional coaching. I’m not sure why, kicking comes naturally to me. I’ve been doing it since I was in the womb. How many kids can say that?
So 2018 dawned, the year of me learning football skills.
On the morning of the big day, Grandad came to our house to look after Brother Rory whilst Mum took me Football Training.
But I ended up very emotional. I think the nerves got to me when I realised how big a day it was in my life and the pressure on me to be the first football diva in the Robinson (my Mum’s) bloodline and even in my Dad’s family although there is a lot more male competition.
I couldn’t face it. Brother Rory was staying home with Grandad having amazing fun whilst I had to go and face up to my responsibilities.
On top of all that, the worse thing of all, Grandad hates and detests everything about footballers, and thinks people in football are brainless, totally unintelligent, spoilt brats who work in a corrupt and fraudulent environment. He thinks it’s so wrong that they are even paid any money and especially wrong that they get paid what they get paid for kicking a ball with no skills and doctors and nurses get paid what they get paid.
So my football career could spell the end of the fantastic relationship between me and Grandad.
Grandad and Rory were having so many laughs together as Mum dragged me out to the car to take me to my first football practice. And I bottled it. I ended up screaming “I don’t want to go to football.” I screamed as bad as if I was Grandad being dragged to football practise by Mamma.
Mum, rightfully, as usually, insisted I go. And when I got there I found it to be the best thing in the world ever. I won two races. That made me feel good. They said the only criticism they had about me was that I kicked the ball too hard! You have to kick it hard if you are going to blast it past everyone. I think they were only saying that to knock my confidence because I was so good.
Another lady said I was good to say it was my first time at the lessons. Exactly what did she mean? It was hardly a compliment. But I have a thick skin.
I know quite a bit about football because I’ve watched MOTD with my Dad and Brother Rory.
My understanding is that you and all the other guys chase around this field aimlessly and try and get the ball. If someone’s got the ball and you can get close enough to him you trip him over or kick him or both and take the ball off him. You do not even have to go on the naughty step or say you are sorry.
If you’ve got the ball and someone gets it off you you dramatically throw yourself on the floor and have a tantrum. I learnt that from MOTD it happens all the time, I’ve seen it so much I am brilliant at doing that. I have practiced since birth and therefore perfected the movement.
There are some nets at each end of the football field. These are for guys like me who kick really hard, the nets stop the ball going into the crowd and hurting people.
When me and Brother Rory watch MOTD we find watching guys chasing a ball gets a bit boring so to make it more interesting we count the number of times someone kicks the ball and it gets in the net. For us it adds a whole new dimension and meaning to the game.
The tutor took us on one side for a few minutes to explain the offside rule which I picked up straight away. It is so obvious, why do they find it necessary to spell it out as if we were kids.
Another important thing about the game of football is that you have to dress yourself up in your favourite colour. Everything has to be in that colour: your shirt, socks, hat, scarf and shoes. Your shorts can be a bit different, say white. The problem is everyone in your team has to be dressed the same and yet everyone’s favourite colour is different. So how does that work then? You guessed it, the teacher gets to choose the favourite colour.
I suppose you either put up with the colour you are given like I have had to do. Or find a team that wears your favourite colour. We have to wear orange I look like the Snowman’s Satsuma nose in The Snowman and Snowdog. Just tell me who’s favourite colour is orange?
I suppose my favourite colour is blue like Thomas the Tank Engine. Uncle ColCol’s is red so he likes Liverpool and Lincoln. I think my Dad’s favourite colour is grey. I don’t think many teams wear that colour.
So football training finished and it was brilliant. So, back to Grandad. My mission in football is to become an International player and become a Beckham or a Lineker or even better. But, even more important, I have to make Grandad an ardent and passionate football fan.
Apparently he used to be a football fan when football was not about money, corruption and greed, back in the 1950s. His favourite player was Stanley Matthews who played for Blackpool FC. Apparently they played in orange kit. So my orange football kit has put a twinkle in Grandad’s eye.
Me and Cousin George have already committed to getting him into football. We’ve made a start. He is impressed with the orange kit that rekindles his memories of Stanley Matthews football boots he had for Christmas 1955. Grandad said as a lad he played hopeless football. He knew that the Stanley Matthews football boots he wanted for Christmas would transform his skills. The boots were obviously faulty because he still played rubbish football. But his Dad did not return them to the shop as faulty. What a waste of money.
Grandad says there is a lesson to be learned there. Make sure you return faulty goods immediately.
But we must be making some headway. Grandad has started a Crowdfunding Campaign: “Fund-to-finance-a-huge-thick-coat-for-standing-on-the-touchline-on-cold-days-to-watch-Ewan-&-George-Play-Football” on the internet. Please send donations to:
Bye Bye Ewan