Close but no cigar
‘Rangers Host Hearts In SPL Opener!’
‘Dons Begin Against Bristol Rovers!’
And, oh be still my beating heart…
‘Stevenage Face Exeter First!’
Yes, just some of the stand-out headlines there from the new season fixture list — or the fix-list, for short, as they say in Italy.
That would be the new season across the water, of course, our own domestic game continuing merrily on its way through the summer months, not that anything like enough Irish football fans care to pay a whole heap of attention.
Nope, for them, it’s all about the Premier League, the Championship and the SPL — or, to be more accurate, one club in the SPL — and, so in common with the spiritually like-minded on our neighbouring island, they would have fallen upon yesterday’s announcement like ravenous wolves, consulting maps and excitedly plotting the many and varied journeys which following their clubs will entail through the autumn, winter and spring.
Living room or pub? Seat at table or stool at bar? Decisions, decisions…
Still, you can’t really blame them. The withdrawal symptoms in the close season can be acute, so anything which signposts the return of a life worth living is bound to be greeted with a fervour akin to that which is exhibited by the bug-eyed faithful anticipating The Rapture.
And what is Stevenage versus Exeter if not rapturous, eh?
Incidentally, here is something which has long perplexed me: why the “close” season?
It can’t be “close” as in “close the door” because it’s actually pronounced as in “close to the door”.
But, if it’s that, then what is the close season meant to be close to, exactly?
The season just ended or the season to come? And, if it’s not that, then why isn’t it called the “closed season”, which would seem to make much more sense?
I can see what you’re thinking right now: Liam really should get out more.
But if, like me, you grew up in an age when the close season seemed an awful long way from anything, this was the kind of thought which could mess with your fragile eggshell mind during those endless summer months when, effectively, it seemed that football ceased to exist.
Of course, every two years there was the glorious windfall of a World Cup or European Championship to get you through the doldrums but, for the rest of the time, things got so bad that the football pools had to resort to the methadone substitute of soccer matches in Australia to help keep the addicts on something like an even keel.
Try telling that to the young people nowadays, of course, and they won’t believe you.
These days, the close season seems to constrict with every year, and saturation satellite TV ensures that if a ball is being kicked anywhere on the planet you’ll be able to see it live, and bet the children’s inheritance on it too.
So you’ve no excuse then for missing tomorrow’s big one, Argentina v Albania, a much anticipated fixture which has happily escaped the volcanic ash cloud in Chile which has scuppered a few other choice South American friendlies this weekend. (Chile v Estonia? All bow).
Not to worry, though, there’s still the U21 European Championship to be going on with, as well as plenty of action in the Airtricity League and then, before you know it, the European club qualifiers will be under way, and Celtic, Inter and Manchester City will be over here for the Dublin Super Cup with the big kick-off already hoving into view again.
So we might just somehow muddle through the dog days, after all.
Meantime, off the pitch, the football soaps just run and run, with the Alex McLeish plotline currently the pick of the bunch. Of course, as old Bobby says, money doesn’t talk, it swears but — that presumably weighty consideration notwithstanding — the fact that a man is prepared to risk his reputation and possibly even his health by crossing the dividing line in England’s second city tells you all you need to know about the relative standings of the club which bears that city’s name and the one which sounds like a des res in Dalkey.
Birmingham might be Carling Cup holders and Aston Villa might be labouring to live up to its own history, but clearly the lure of the Premier League is such as to tempt a man even towards the gates of insanity.
Of course, for the neutrals, it’s all a bit of a hoot and makes the prospect of the end to the close season even more enticing.
But spare a thought for Irish Villa fan Conor Byrne, a regular contributor to the always entertaining Football365 website — until now.
Conor yesterday announced his retirement from the game, as it were, the arrival of McLeish at Villa Park the final insult.
“I’m totally disgusted at what has happened at my football club in the past 12 months,” he writes.
“I’m so utterly disenchanted that it’s hard trying to find positives. There are almost none, a near useless manager that I hate and what’s turning out to be your typical American owner, no idea how to run a football club, I’m beginning to loathe it all.
“Last season was hard enough to take, I won’t begin to invest in this season. Football is a horrible shadow of the sport it was.
“What’s the point anymore? I have well-run sports in rugby union, tennis and National Hunt racing that are a joy to follow. Football seems hell bent on alienating fans, and it’s succeeding. I will not be following football next season. So I’ll be taking leave of the mailbox for a season, until my love for the game returns.”
Now that’s what you call a close season. Not that anyone will believe a word of it, of course.
