Not that my brain is nearly so eloquent.
I feel quite torn on all this but in deciding to largely switch off from football I don’t find that life is much worse. It would be different if I were still in London, didn’t have kids and did have money – I watched the Charlton game on TV and even just seeing the colour of the evening Sky reminded me of being at Craven Cottage (it’s a much underestimated phenomenon this, the colour of the sky and how this varies geographically), but still. I don’t live in London, I do have kids and I don’t have money. So football is quite easy to avoid, particularly with our family’s ongoing TV wars.
Does it fill a gap in lives? I think it’s more a case that something we loved as children has sort of mushroomed as we’ve reached adulthood. It’s a bit like when your other half’s been shopping and bought lots of chocolate: something deep within you knows that something you really like is there, and available, and available now, so just get in and eat three fun-sized bags of Maltesers.
And some of us have brains that are wired in a certain way, and that means that if we are interested in something we are very, very interested in something, so we dive in. And football’s extreme *thereness* means we can just keep digging. We will never run out of things about football to read. Think about that for a moment.