Ode to The Beautiful Game

I love football.

Love the passion of the fans, love how the modern game has become something so much more than a mere sport, that it has come to become somewhat of a replacement or perhaps, more fittingly, a symbol of centuries-old serfdom rivalries, taking the place of skirmishes of old.

How the Barcelona club de futbol symbolises the still-simmering defiance, and very much the independence, of the proud Catalans and their disdain for Madrid. And their city rivals Espanyol have come to represent its authority. And all those cracking derbies, be it they at Merseyside (Liverpool and Everton), North London (Arsenal and Tottenham) and of course, the two giants of Manchester, one a half-century old legacy still going on, with a venue sometimes dubbed the Theatre of Dreams, against perhaps the ultimate poster child of the capitalism of the modern game, the new money of City in pale blue. And speaking of venues, how can one not be drawn by names like the Stadium of Light, by the Camp Nou, the Vincente Calderon, and the Santiago Bernebeu? (Of course it helps that I am now ploughing through the Dance of Dragons by George R.R. Martin, and the wars of medieval kingdoms, their seats of rule - Winterfell, Dragonstone, Riverrun and Storm's End, Volantis, Valyria, Meereen, anyone??)

The unpredicability of the game, the fact that one can never know what is going to happen, cannot be denied either. I mean, who would expect that after the first few rounds at the Champions League, the underdog Turkish club Trabzonspor to top a group that includes Inter Milan, the mighty Inter that won the treble just over a year ago, and the champions of France, Lille? Especially since Trabzonspor was not supposed to even be in the CL in the first place, just pulled up to replace the Turkish league toppers, suspended over match-fixing investigations. Or that the powerful Manchester United, who recently steamrolled Arsenal 8-2 and Chelsea 3-1 over the past weeks, would be held back by Swiss club Basel? And of course by next week it could all switch up again.

There are many reasons why football is so loved by all. The mystery of 22 men chasing one ball. You never know what will happen. This is a game where the small, physically unimposing can impose upon giants. Witness Spain and Holland in the 2010 World Cup Final? Or Barcelona FC and AC Milan? Where a little Argentinian who was rejected by initial scouts in his own country for being too small, who suffered from a growth hormone deficiency and had to inject himself with hormones to ensure he continued to grow as a child, has become the world's best player? Try that with basketball, or rugby will you? :) It is, as it is called, the beautiful game.