Denilson: Well PortugueseHello. My name is Mitch Freeley & in my spare time I like to dj, tweet on twitter, listen to music and take part in the national sport of football. Be this on the humble grass or astro turf or whilst sitting down in a house or even a public house to watch the big game concerning my beloved Arsenal football club. However whist engaging in my hobby I came across one of the most narrow minded, blind and frankly annoying football fan who has questioned the validity for me of our national game.
So I shall set the scene, it's a beautiful sunny day in Birmingham the kind of day in February which you would be fooled to be thinking of a June or July, lovely. I have a nice Saturday off and one in which I am not particularly hung-over. I note that the Arsenal are playing at 3 in the afternoon and so plot in trying to find a bar which will quench my thirst for unsure-if-it's-legal-or-not Premier league football. The only solution comes from a bar I forget the name of on Broad street, so off I go along with my football loving pal John. We take a rather splendid walk around the reservoir talking about our respective teams (John supports Reading) and just talk of the weather and the sort.
We soon arrive at the bar and im pleased to note the sign proclaiming that the Arsenal who where playing Sunderland was on and live, very import the game was Live I to watch the game. Particularly on the inclusion of Arsenals big money signing Andrei Arshavin, who I have been talking about at great length’s on my world football posts and anyone who can have my ear whilst talking football. He promises a "new dawn" for Arsenal in what has been a frustrating season thus far, in terms of promising so much technically with the pace & passing skills which make many fans of the beautiful game drool in delight.
However they lack that final thrust, that goal that moment of magic. Something that I am convinced the Russian can deliver by the bucket-load. So much so my little brother has vowed to get his named embossed across the back of his new away shirt. The last player which was chosen by him was Jose Antonio Reyes, look what happened to him.
Anyway I deviate from the story at hand. So with little over ten minutes to the game and we are held up tight in a booth. I notice a pair of gentlemen in the booth opposite us. Both with beer's in hand and in full voice, one wearing an Aston Villa shirt, who had only hours later succumbed a 8 game winning streak to a newly rejuvenated Chelsea side thanks in part to the wonder of Guss Hiddink. Clearly in a bullish spirit the two gents, chatted over their pints of choice (I presume Stella) turning the air blue with their view on Chelsea fans and the game. (Constant references to women’s genitals) it seemed they where very much against the fact that Chelsea fans choose to watch the game in Birmingham of all places.
Constantly referring them with the phrase “cockney -women’s genitals which rhyme with shunt” I laughed as the game progressed but the fifth minute showed by weakest moment of the day. Arshavin open's up space fantastically and is primed for a shot. I cry out "Go on Andei!" as I tend to do with all Arsenal players I call them by their first names to imply some crude friendship with the player, it's silly but it seems very much to be with my own psyche when watching Arsenal.
Big mistake, the pair who are now joined by what can be only described as a Brummie beau lock eyes with me and pursue in talking down the Arsenal, cockneys, and start supporting Sunderland for the game. I suppose it comes with the territory of a busy bar in Brum and so I get on watching the game. Smiling at the drivel that this guy is coming out with relating to Arsenal, gems including "That Nasri's a gay boy." Homosexual or not Sami's ability is breathtaking, and so the titter tattle of this idiot and his idiot friend made myself and my friend quietly smile such is life.
But then things rapidly got out of hand I cheered at the apparent goal Robin Van Percy had created for it to creep wide. Now Mr Villa who now in full pomp cheered loudly, not a problem with that he's following his beloved Sunderland, the "wonder Mackems" as he proudly shouted. But the line was crossed as he sat down and proceeded to call me "that fooking Cockney lady genital, fook off to London you fookin lady genital." Stunned by such language directed at me, I replied with "So how did you (the villa) do today." a snappy reply of "We lost mate." I quip "oh ok." me purely out of my depth grappling verbally with two senior football aficionado’s. "But we are five points ahead of you so we isn’t bothering about you (Arsenal) mate." Was the equally witty and precise comment from Mr Villa's associate, who as the current situation progressed was a rather tubby gent and looked if it came down to it handy in a scuffle. I remained calm as the idiots babbled between themselves, and quickly replied, "So how you doing in europe? Losing the first leg thought so."
Game Freeley surely. But Mr Villa whom I shall describe as a balding, bespectacled and eye brow pierced individual. Blew his lid at those Uefa cup comments, invoking a blunt response of "shut the fudge up right." this repeated till I simply laughed at him and turned to watch the game. The argument in all took a mere moment but had ramifications which would last throughout the game.
Between the three of them (Mr Villa, Tubbs & the Brummie Beau) talked at length about the incident whilst me and my pal John (who said nothing incidentally, thanks) watched the game as normally as you can after a verbal tussle with the people right next to you. Needless to say much cursing was directed at me, and the argument mainly was that this was "a villa pub." and that he would never have such Gaul to do the same in "a London boozer." The first point of frustration for me, I isn’t a cockney guvnor honest, and although I perhaps play up to this presumption when impressing strangers and or ladies. It considerably Irked me im not sure why, and the second was the grand comment of "This is my city, so he should run with my rules right." Oh how I wished I had piped up again destroying this prat with some witty comeback effectively putting his argument in the shade.
But I didn’t, he had frustrated me immensely mainly with his brain-dead punditry, his love of women’s genitalia in conversation, and the fact that by having a few pints he had the right to shout down normal J2O drinking individuals like myself. So the game got to half time, still a rather dire 0-0 with Arsenal failing to deliver at the crucial moment again. The three leave the table, & I breathe a sigh of relief.
No more homosexual bashing aimed at Sami who with his recent new hair cut would be well worth my attention homosexual or not. No more witty comments laid at Denilson "go back to Portugal" was labelled at the light-weight Brazilian. Or non at my newest hero Andrei, "He's just shit." Say it isn’t so! Now newly relaxed and I kicked back eating on some very expensive sandwich and chips and watching the various halftime results come in including the mighty Reading loosing to Bristol city, meaning jokes on John and congrats to my Bristol City supporting friend Ross Casey. But just as the second half came on who arrives back at the bar?
Yes it's the Villa three all fresh from their half time smoke and taking refuge by the pub slot machine. Im well aware of the trio holed up as their old seats get taken up by another group of villa fans. The second half again kicks off and well it's more of the same really, pretty football with no cut and thrust just frustration. But I wasn’t acting my usually bubbly self, in the corner of my eye they stood boggle eyed at the football on the big screen willing Sunderland on.
Now I prayed to the football gods for help to relive my pain, forget Champions League, forget Villa a classic 1-0 to the Arsenal is just the ticket. Christ I would have taken in a fumbled in effort from Eboue who had come on for that Portuguese superstar Denilson. But then it happened twenty minutes to go Carlos Vela free on goal surely the net was about to bulge, I rose up on the expectation of a goal and the visible gloating I was going to throw to the Villa three. But ruined again the Mexican spurned his chance for glory, much to the jeers directed at me. I felt like the only gooner in town.
Then the final dilemmas I needed the toilet, but with the trio so well placed by the toilets would anything happen? Would this be the timely demise of Mitch Freeley aged 20 to a middle aged weekend dad look-a-like. Part of me said hold on to that wee, preserve your boyish looks. The other half said go for it, and if you get battered it's a story for the fostered kids explaining your chronic infidelity. Anyway my idiot brain went with the infidelity route, and so I wandered down warning my pal before I left. I skipped past no problem, fantastic I thought as I wazzed triumphantly over the urinal. Then taking time to wash my hands before my date with destiny. I walked out and past only to be greeted with the phrase "Scum" crudely hurled my way. It felt wrong I tell you, but my response was a calm nod and sarcastic smile. It's all I seem to do whilst faced with my angriest moments pure full on sarcasm.
Silly so after that skirmish I sad down watched the game and well got on with it, but the football gods failed to smile on me, Arsenal should have won and spurned many a chance. William Gallas missing a peach at the very last to leave me questioning my teams chance of a Champions league spot. The game ended and in a well choreographed moved Mr Villa wandered towards me, spouting some Brummie gibberish about the game, I was so angry at this point I failed to reply as they bounded off like school children to be picked up by the beau in her rather fantastic Ford Mondeo which was red in colour. I presume I remember so well because of the pure frustration.
Anyway that was that & what can we learn. Firstly never actively listen or engage with the opinions of Moron's, or anyone who can harbour racist, homophobic or darn right ignorant views on the beautiful game. Granted this sport is one very much of debate and argument but it should not be told by blinded bigots like the one I ran into on this beautiful of Saturdays. Secondly always hold your tongue and never try to talk to these mindless people because you'll end up like me frustrated and bewildered. Finally draw comfort from a number of things, your sure ability of your rightness in what you do and that you regularly engage in football debate with meaningful, and clever mediums such as the guardian and football shows else where, not from the local village idiot who recons he's an Andy Grey in waiting.
Finally I would also like to note that I have many friends who follow the Villa, I appreciate them for there fandom and as genuine people, and over all most Villa fans I meet are ace. But it's just the one I have a problem with, and in truth I do feel that as of this week (22nd Feb. 2009) Villa have been the better team and deserve 4th place. However it isn’t over till the fat lady sings!
This is a example of a nice normal Villa fan, not the one i bumped into.
Keep Smiling Mitch
