Football

When I was eight, my dad took me to see Coventry City, my local team, play Sunderland at Highfield Road and ever since I have been a Manchester United fan.  The Coventry / Sunderland match ended a dull 0-0, I couldn't see much as it was all standing and I remember it being cold and wet.  Manchester United, on the other hand, had George Best and were about to win the European Cup.  There was no contest.

My experience was not untypical for boys growing up in Coventry in the 1960s.  I can't remember many of my mates supporting Coventry City at that time.  Post-1966, there were a few supported West Ham, and a handful followed Liverpool, but United were definitely the favourites at Wheelwright Lane Junior School.

We went to Highfield Road again to see Coventry against United the season after they won the European Cup in 1968.  We arrived three hours before kick off and already the ground was heaving.  It was so full that many of the children, including me, were passed to the front and put over the wall on to the side of the pitch.  I spent a blissful couple of hours inches from Bobby Charlton, Denis Law and George Best.

I know I fall into that easy stereotype of the United fan living a considerable way from Old Trafford, but I couldn't give a monkey's.  Once I was committed to the team, I was there through Thick and Thin.  Admittedly, since 1968, this has been mainly Thick, but I am proud to say I was there at Bristol City for the first away game when they were relegated to the Second Division.  Above all it's been a considerable emotional investment on my part and one which has been paid back with interest.  In fact, if United never win anything ever again, I am happy to live off that emotional interest for the rest of my life.

Whilst United are my team, I enjoy watching good football, whichever team is playing.  I've always looked forward to the start of each new season for the new challenges, the new players and the width of Jamie Redknapp's ties.  This season, however, I'm completely disinterested in the whole thing.  I'm sure this is partly down to the football overdose we experienced this summer from the Euros and Olympics, but I know that a big reason is my diminishing respect for the players, clubs and the football authorities post-Olympics.

For the past couple of weeks we've seen and heard inspiring stories of dedicated athletes who have made us feel proud.  Now it's all over we're faced with the return of Suárez, Terry, Barton and the rest of their obscenely-paid chums.  At Week 1 of the new season I really can't be bothered.

I'm sure that I'll soon get enthused again about football.  The signing of Robin van Persie has cheered me up no end, although I appreciate the irony of my mood being lifted by the signing of another highly-paid footballer.  In the meantime I'm really looking forward to the Paralympics.  I hope the wave of goodwill that will accompany these games embarrasses some of the football millionaires into changing their ways, but somehow I doubt it.