It's Not About Football

I grew up surrounded by football. Not because I loved it, but because everyone else around me did.

I went to the odd match, heard the shouting in my house on game days (which I hated), and watched my grandad make the three-hour trip to support his home team religiously. My family had tried to get me to join a new local girls’ team, but I never felt interested- until one Sunday, when my brother came home with a ‘man of the match’ trophy. Seeing it added to the collection on his shelf sparked something in me, and in that moment, I decided I wanted to play too.

But truthfully? I didn’t care about being the best or learning technique. I just liked seeing my friends, and 90% of the time I didn’t even want to go - I only went for the Maccies (McDonald’s) afterwards.

By the time I was a teenager living with my dad, my interest had hugely faded. All I held onto was being a red, but even that was more identity than passion.

Then something shifted.

I bought my Grandad a book titled ‘from you to me’ which was filled with questions to answer about his life. He loved doing it, and I loved reading it. I can’t remember the question that inspired this answer but he said he wouldn’t change a thing about me, except wishing I cared more about football. And without realising it, I think I carried that with me.

I didn’t suddenly wake up a football fanatic, but small steps drew me closer. I bought a shirt because I saw Maya Chantout style one and wanted to do the same. I went to a game because my accountant invited me, and I wanted to take my grandad. From there, Liverpool FC noticed my videos and my passion flourished.

Almost a year later, I look back in disbelief. The season I decided to care again, Liverpool won the league. Arne Slot came in strong. I was featured in the club’s Christmas advert. I’ve worked with both the men’s and women’s teams. And I watched the victory parade wearing the champions scarf the club sent me.

All of this because I cared enough, to care about, what someone I love cared about.

A very unintentionally apt example of how we can do things we don’t necessarily love for the people we love. I think love opens our hearts to understanding and listening to what fuels those we care about. What makes them happy? What do they spend their time (in this case life) doing or supporting? What makes them feel something so deeply?

When you take the time to listen and learn, not only does love deepen, but sometimes you find yourself unexpectedly falling in love with the very thing they love too.

And when those people are gone, those loves can keep them alive. Memory lives on in the things they adored.

I never set out to “love” football. I only set out to love my grandad. But here I am, writing this in a red shirt, grateful that his love for the game wove itself into mine.

It bodes well to seek to understand, because you never know- in learning what they love, you may too find something you do.

Up the Reds. YNWA ♥️