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WAG’s & Widows
Sorry to have disappeared for a while – had to devote lots of time to some family issues. Anyway I’m back with another relationship article…
I’ve only cried in public on two occasions. One occasion was in the corridor of the Aga Khan hospital in Nairobi when my first held my newborn son and pressed my lips gently against his head. The other time was at Taylor’s Avenue, the home ground of Carrick Rangers Football Club….
…it was a warm evening in June and a good crowd had turned out to watch the N.Ireland Youth Cup semi-final. I should have been at home studying for an A-Level in Geography which I had the next morning, but my team needed me. We were playing well, in control of the game and I was enjoying myself… but just as I was letting the ball run safely through to our goalkeeper an opposition player ran into me…before I really took in what was happening, the other team had scored a penalty. Fifteen minutes later as the referee blew the final whistle on our 0 v 1 loss to controversy, the hurt was unbearable…and I cried.
I love football - there is nothing that fires the emotion quite like it. That incident was 18 years ago, yet as I celebrate my 37th birthday I’m still addicted to the adrenalin and testosterone powered passion that football gives. I train with my club 2 nights each week have gym sessions in between and play league matches every Saturday. My girlfriend doesn’t complain, but I know she’s thinking that a man of my age should know better.
On June 14th 2010 the inspirational, artistic and scientific ‘beautiful game’ also known as football, will be celebrated on the continent where arguably it’s most fervent and passionate supporters live. Our news bulletins, magazines and TV ad’s will be full of pictures of football’s global superstars and superrich, and of course, their beautiful wife’s and girlfriends.
One half of the world’s media will be focusing on the players form and fitness, the teams strengths and strategies…while the other half will be focusing on Colleen Rooney’s new Louis Vuitton handbag, whether or not Victoria Beckham’s latest Armani dress does her figure justice…and OMG what kind of shades is she wearing now! (To be honest I think that my girlfriend enjoys the gossip just as much as I enjoy the games).
The World Cup paints a glamorous but unreal picture; it portrays the lifestyle of only a chosen few. So what is it really like for those poor WAG’s whose men play week in week out for unknown teams, mostly for no money and often for no glory?
ü Being a WAG is like sitting on the bench – no attention:
It’s no fun being a substitute. The feeling of disappointment, even rejection at being left out the team hurts. Being a WAG is like being a substitute. On Tuesday and Thursday nights, when we want to cuddle up with our man, a take-away and a DVD, he’s at football training….he goes there straight from the office, stays out for a while with his mates and comes home late. Why is being part of a team more important than being part of relationship?
ü Being a WAG is like being the kitman – no appreciation:
He eventually does come home. You wake up to greet him and find a bag lying on the kitchen floor – is it a present? Nope. Of course not, it’s got muddy shorts, a sweaty shirt and wet towel inside, all waiting to be lovingly washed and ironed! And why does he have to wear that stupid Arsenal shirt anyway, it makes his belly look too big?!
ü Being a WAG when he’s too tired to shag – no sex:
So you’ve been feeling a little bit lonely and a little bit rejected, but now your man is home. He’s showered and shaved, smelling nice and looking good and you’re ready for some real passion. Nope. Instead of words of love you hear “That was a tough training session tonight honey, I’ve never run so much and I’m so tired…better get some sleep”
Or even if he does get aroused it’s either going to be like make love to a sack of potatoes, or he’s going pull a hamstring when the action really starts.
ü Being a WAG is like being an accounts manager – no money:
You have some annual leave coming up and have in mind a few dream holidays – Dubai, Paris, New York? You’ve been saving your money to go and see a new place and do some shopping - So do you get that dream holiday? You guessed it girl!
He needs money to buy new football boots for next season, and Arsenal will have a new shirt out soon, and he’s promised his mates he’ll go on a weekend football tour with them next month and…and…and…
So as the World Cup looms large, are you living the live of a real WAG? Are you dreading the prospect of being a football widow for the next few weeks? Please let us know your experiences and your suggestions.
Andrew..
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