So much makes sense in this simple sport.
The home team are heroes, the righteous ones, until something goes wrong.
The away team are 11 villainous creatures, inept and beneath thee, no matter how much brilliance.
The referee and his mates with flags are there to vent general misgivings towards.
A rectangle pitch, a round ball, two goals; score the most and life is glorious.
A simple game, made somewhat perplexing by the odd idiosyncrasy.
Some have been around for a while. Others have emerged recently and rapidly, as if part of some Occupy Football movement.
I’m not the Gordon Gecko in this, sneering at the emergence at these trends. There is no volcanic anger. They don’t really matter. They just... don’t make sense.
Like Mohawks. It has become standard worldwide – one player, per team, per league, MUST have a a ¾ shearing job to their cranium.
And it appears this pandemic is contagious. Leigh Broxham of Melbourne Victory has carried his through the season thus far, his delinquent appearance matching his role of causing havoc in the middle of all.
Then Roddy Vargas stepped out with an outrageous show of one-upmanship on his diminutive teammate – a paranormal strip of uncut tuft, that if a golf ball lodged in it. When will this craze go one step too far? Anyone for a Miron mohawk?
Speaking of managers, why does the off one wear boots on the bench? They have staff to do the warm up. They have medical staff to run on the pitch – so why they need boots is equally befuddling, given it isn’t ice hockey.
As for players leg wear – why do authorities insist shin pads be worn? The best barely do. While its advisable for weekend amateurs playing on cow paddocks to wear the next step down from cricket pads, professionals just pop a couple of Uno cards down there, or a used pack of Winny Blues, and trot on.
At least, in theory, shin pads serve a purpose. Why do players wear tape around their wrists? RSI from signing autographs? Or too much time away from home?
Football is passionate. Thanks scoop. In the big leagues, players cop huge amounts of stick. Thanks double scoop. Yet why do some feel the need to celebrate in front of the away fans, when playing at home?
A magnificent pile-driving strike wins a game. 50,000 fans go beserk. The said superman then runs to a small pocket of silent disbelieving travellers, and tells them to shut up. Is that enjoying the moment?
A colleague of mine believes it’s due to not being hugged enough as a child. I’ll add as an adult too. At least if the said player has taped wrists, it confirms the latter.
What about badge kissing. Yes, a tradition... almost. But is the fact that you’ve just smashed in a goal to spark delirium amongst your own players and fans not enough evidence of your love for your club? Especially for those at their eighth.
Fans are not immune from this.
Sometimes, that game-winning, or draw salvaging strike happens in front of a slew of empty seats. They’ve gone, unbeknowns to the fact 1-0 in the 85th minute can still be 1-1 after 90. Or more.
The reason? To beat the traffic. After waiting all week to watch the game, some skim five minutes off so they don’t have to sit in a car park for 15 minutes extra. Should be made to go play with the traffic.
It’s the ultimate idiocy, in a wonderful game of idiosyncrasies.