Football

I can’t help but notice the stars are shining. I take a walk past the football ground. Here’s hoping for a good season. I sit on the front step. The shutters are down and there is no one around.

I remember coming here as a kid with my dad. Seats in the main stand. He grew up a Hibs fan, which led to a few awkward moments when they scored against us. I’d be saying out the side of my mouth, “Shut up… or sit down.” Makes me laugh when I think about it now.

I close my eyes, then I can see the crowds. The fucking characters, man. The songs. The last-minute fucking victories. Wins against teams with more money, more fans, more fucking expectation that they can just turn up and win. Sometimes they did. Well, not this time, pal.

Football is everywhere. Some people pick a team based on who is top of the table, where their favourite player is playing, who they have signed for this year.

But for me, I’m lucky. This ground, a 15-minute walk from home. This is my team. I fucking love it.

I stand and look up at the stand. I reach out and touch the wall. The brick cooling down.

I set off into the night.

Walking through the darkness by the stand, it’s like I can hear the crowd. I can hear the players.

I’ll be here Saturday.