The Sporting Gentleman
I went with some chums at the weekend to the Oval at Kennington to take in an exhibition of the flourishing new game of Association Football.
The game was played between some ghastly northern oiks who call themselves 'Blackburn Rovers', and a team comprising of some of my oldest and dearest friends, the 'Old Etonians XI'. It would give me a chance to not only see what the old devils are up to these days, but to also reminisce about our school days - the studies we took, the masters we ragged and all those exhilarating games we enjoyed, both on the rugby field and in the dorm after lights out.
The Old Etonians took the field and the players posed for teams etchings before the match. The Etonians cut a fine dash in their lilac, ochre, turquoise and chocolate quartered shirts, worn tight enough to show off the public schoolboy's natural healthy torso and strong, masterful limbs. This manly pose, coupled with the slicked-back hair and well-groomed bushy moustaches gave rise to a look which I'm sure will remain synonymous with masculinity and male bonding for generations to come.
The game started and even to my untrained eye the Old Etonians seemed to have the better of the play. The most exciting moment came when W.J. Anderson of the Etonians managed to kick the ball past Blackburn's goalkeeper and between the uprights. I'm sure if the ball hadn't then got stuck in some damn silly net he could have scored a try.
The crowd didn't seem to mind though, getting worked up into a frenzy the way only commoners can. Undignified as it seemed, I have to admit to quite enjoying the experience. There was the rejoicing, the bonhomie, and the chance to be squashed between a plethora of unsuspecting swarthy fellows.
Such is the popularity of this game that afterwards the Old Etonian's captain was asked for his thoughts by many a national paper.
I felt it necessary to get my own quote for GC. He summed it all up eloquently with "...well what can one say Brian? The chaps are all feeling higher than the moon. As for the goal itself, well I saw 'Anders' making an exquisite dash forward so I propelled the ball with most urgency in his direction. I have to say that the big fellow did splendidly, deftly elbowing a defender out of the way, before showing the kind of composure than only comes from breeding, as he marshalled the ball into the goal. It was good night, Blackburn.
Damn silly game though. It’ll never catch on.
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