Religion for the Masses

Dungeekin can't understand what is significant about this week's story about some footballists. After claiming to have no knowledge on the subject, he nevertheless describes football very acurately as:

22 overpaid, over-hyped, extravagantly-coiffed and unimportant prima-donnas kicking an inflated pigs bladder around a field, occasionally putting it in a big net box and sometimes falling over clutching their faces if another prima donna gets within fifteen feet of them. Oh, and spitting. And swearing at the poor sod refereeing.

As I have commented in reply to Dungeekin, when I was young I was always confused why my Dad used to get so upset when 11 men that he did not know personally and who did not grow up near to where he grew up had failed to kick an inflated pig's bladder into a wooden rectangle as often as had 11 other men that he did not know personally and who did not grow up near to where he grew up.

This disappointment would arrive most Saturday afternoons and then again (in spades) every fourth summer. So, when he asked me whether I wanted to go with him to "the football", I would decline. As football was the principal interest and excitement in his life (he was an accountant...), I suspect that my lack of interest explained a lot of his subsequent attitude to me.

I have to say, I still don't understand the attraction.