Football is an interesting game. Played at the highest level, the skills and thinking behind each move can be incredible – made more incredible to me by the impossibility of being able to control a ball myself! I see, perhaps, no more than four or five games each season, on television or live, and normally enjoy them immensely. The idea of spending very large sums of money and time on holding a season ticket does seem bizarre to me, but not to many thousands of otherwise normal people. Perhaps I will never understand this passion because I tend to see each game as a collection of moves, and fail to see the pattern of the match. Perhaps it has something to do with not caring which team wins!

Last night I was privileged to watch Newcastle play Barcelona. A surprise invite from a friend who’s company has a table in one of several “hospitality suites”, and one I’ve enjoyed a couple of times in the past. As an event, an evening out, the football gives a focus and an excuse, but Newcastle, and every other major club, has recognised that football by itself is not enough for most people. We need more. At the cheapest level (which, at this level, must still be a considered purchase. A simple ticket for a top match will probably average at twenty five pounds or so) the bars in and around the ground are filled before and after the game. There will be queues at the pie and tea stalls; programmes sold, shirts and scarves worn out, pre, post and half time entertainment and appearances by local celebrities. At the level I enjoyed last night the promise is of live music as we eat good food (and in parts it was surprisingly excellent), as much drink as the club can persuade us to buy (even adding novelty to drinking large amounts with large, table based beer dispensing devices) and appearances within touching distance of the “Man of the Match”. All this is complemented by comfy match seats we need not take until we’re ready, a dress code and prices which are intended to imply exclusivity as well as make high profits. There is something about mixing with yesterday’s top players, I suppose, but the reality is that I would not recognise any past players anyway, and each group, even if sharing a table with another group, tends to keep themselves to themselves.

My evening was wonderful. From the first text message, confirming the invitation, rushing home from a meeting, quick change of clothes and Jenny driving me to the station. Then the fifteen minute wait as the train was delayed and talking about Morgans with Paul on the journey. Trying to find tickets that should have been left in a small train driver’s office on platform six at Newcastle, but weren’t. Walking from the station to the ground, which for Newcastle is still in the centre. Meeting up with Paul’s other guests, both interesting men. The first pint of Guinness, and the second…. That wonderful roast tomato salad, and the excellent wine. Conversation in a sort of mature blokish way. Pretending to be vaguely knowledgeable as the team was announced – while in reality I could not have named more than two players in the entire Newcastle squad (Given and Shearer). The beauty of the first half, despite poor finishing and no goals. Whiskey at half time. Feeling joy for the couple of hundred Barcelona fans (out of a total fifty thousand in the ground) as Barcelona took the lead and then scored a second. Post match chatter and even more drinks. Dyer’s (as “Man of the Match”) little speech was embarrassing, as he clearly didn’t want to be there. The drive home in a car with GPS map display (I want one!) and final goodnights. Getting into bed beside a warm and still awake wife. It was great.

Yes, the football was an excuse. I have never actually been to a game for the sake of the game alone. The few I’ve seen have all been based on a social meeting, but I’ve enjoyed each experience. Others have described football in passionate terms, but I can’t join in. My support is fickle, I care more for the underdog than any romantic notion of locale as getting past the business side (players in this business can, rightly come from anywhere in the world) to think of league football as a sport is beyond me. I feel little identity with any football team, even at international level. Sure, it’s good for the profile of the region (of which I am very proud) to have three good teams in the top league, but I honestly couldn’t much care which. Realistically, it is unlikely to be Durham, Darlington and Hartlepool in the near future, though. Football is simply a polarised and perhaps romanticised branch of the entertainment and leisure industry. Many are interested, but I suspect only a small minority shares the genuine passion. Anytime I’m invited I’ll make real efforts to be there, and enjoy the whole experience, but don’t expect me to buy a season ticket just yet.