Why am I embarrassed to talk football to clients these days?

Why am I embarrassed to talk football to clients these days

?

Great leveller football is. At least it was. Great conversation opener. At least it was. Oh most greatest, biggest most laughing, crying, most beautiful of all sports. Still is. So why am I now less comfortable waxing lyrical, using it as a leveller, a loosener, call it what you will..... with people I first meet? Especially in business.

For a woman, I'm reasonably knowledgeable. I know all their names and positions (and not just my own team). I go to all the home games and I can opinionate on the game when it's in play and when it's over. I've even been to Wembley and attended away games and had 10 quid notes waved at me from the opposing terraces. I went to the World Cup this year in South Africa (dull). I know an off side when I see one. I even respect the top four managers for their management and leadership capabilities, even when they beat us. Because that's what we pay to see. That's what makes it exciting........the mere prospect of beating a team that's a 100 times better than yours, through shear guile and determination, in freezing, torrential rain. I love the tribal working classness of it all (even though I now watch the game from a corporate box!). I love the roar of the crowd, even if they're swearing, because most of the time it's funny, (especially Newcastle's Coloccini song). Ok, on the punditry front I'm no Gary Lineker and I'm nowhere near as good as Lee Dixon, but I'm better at it than Alan (they done good') Shearer. Which is sad, because he was always my hero, in the days when his feet did the talking.

So why am I grappling with this sad and new niggling reluctance? This fear of assuming (as I once boringly did) that football's on everyone's agenda. I think it's because there's a naffness' about it at the minute. A depressing backdrop of stupid money being spent in stupid ways. A wastefulness that seems more sinful than it ever did before. A sleaziness at its very core that offends every sinew of moral fibre in me (not that I'm overly riddled with moral fibre myself as it goes). I'd never be that self righteous or sanctimonious. But for pity sake, what moral fibre I do possess is being tortured and pulled in all directions as I try desperately to retain emotional connectivity with the modern game. It's the tedious, big name tales of duplicity and public betrayal. It's the manipulating, money grabbing agent games at play. It's the disappointing, pub brawling, girl hitting, local heroes with bad hair do's, who earn more money than the collective population of Tyneside. This all makes me feel sad and embarrassed for the game. A game that has lost, or is in serious danger of losing its soul.

I'm self conscious in a way that I've never been before, to say: I'm a fanatical fan'. To stay enthralled and entranced is becoming a chore. A passion that was as instinctive to me as....laughing or crying....is now making me squirm in discomfort. And I'm thinking twice before waffling on about it to strangers (strangers around the world no doubt sighing with relief).

Oh please, ONMEEHEAD', most gracious God of Football. Wave your corner flag from Fratton Park to The Kop. From St James' Park to Deepdale, from Stamford Bridge to The Riverside, and make all the dirt (or at least some of it) go away, so that I can once again, chat on in blissful comfort.......mostly much about nowt.

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