Childhood footy obsession confessions

As you’ll see in an upcoming post, I have a theory I call the Expat Evolution that explains a transformation many of us go through. There are a few remarkable elements to this change I won’t go into now, but for now let’s just say what it does is “even” you out as a football supporter – a sort of football enlightenment that helps deal with the rollercoaster you ride as a passionate fan.

My footy obsession began early

When I think about my personal journey as an Expat down this path it actually makes me laugh because, once upon a time, things were so very different. To be honest, I was anything but a balanced fan.

Like many kids growing up in Melbourne, football was my world and it controlled my behaviour like nothing else. There were times when this grip perhaps tightened a little too much; when passion bordered obsession and some rather embarrassing footy memories were created. These are what I call my footy obsession confessions, and the list below is just the tip of the iceberg!

My footy obsession confessions

• One of my earliest footy memories was going to Collingwood v Carlton at the old VFL Park in 1985 and crying as the Blues kicked away to record an easy victory.
  
• When Paul Salmon kicked the opening two goals of the 1990 Grand Final against Collingwood I also cried. Yes, the crying theme was a consistent one and I can remember plenty more occasions when the waterworks were turned on (the image below was a common sight in my house).
  
• My temper when watching matches was infamous. Remote controls were thrown, glass was broken and I also took a few swings at my older brothers. I think I did all three when St. Kilda upset Collingwood in the 1992 elimination final!
  
• I tried hard to memorise every number worn by the players on club lists. For me, the guys kicking dew off the grass in the reserves were just as easy to name as Peter Daicos or Tony Lockett.
  
• When not playing kick-to-kick in our cul-de-sac, I was inside kicking a balloon around and commentating on my own imaginary games. In one match I recall, Ian Fairley from North Melbourne kicked 27 goals playing from Centre Half Back against the Swans.
  
• When not playing or pretending to play, I was collecting cards, stickers and paper clippings. I still have my old footy scrapbook from this time, complete with its piece-de-resistance: a personal message from Brian Taylor scrawled across the centre pages that my old man managed to chase down for me.
  
• I literally wore out some of my footy videos on the VCR, with old favourites like Seven’s Magic Moments turned into a scratchy, jumpy mess from too much use.

The confession lesson

So, why am I confessing these to you? Shouldn’t footy memories like these be locked tightly away and never spoken of again? Perhaps, but, as cringe-worthy as they are, the fact you’re reading this blog means you’re probably nodding to yourself thinking, “I did that!” I know there are many others out there who have similar confessions hidden away and I wanted to show them they weren’t alone (or weird).

Also, I think these confessions help prove something to other Expats, especially the new guys. It proves that no matter how different things may seem; no matter how out-of-place you’re feeling in this foreign football environment, it does get better and you can successfully adapt. If someone with a list of footy obsession confessions like these can do it, anyone can! Hang in there.

Do you have any embarrassing childhood footy obsession confessions? Are you brave enough to share them?