I’m writing this on the way to the football. We’re off to see my new favourite club Bohemians, or more precisely Bohemians U10’s. My little cousins are all crazy about sport as all young Irish lads seem to be and three of them play within the clubs system. They gave me an official hat about a month ago and a scarf now for Christmas so I’m decked out ready to support the boys.
The only issue for me of course is that I have had to switch my Dublin club allegiance from Shamrock Rovers who wear the same colours as my beloved Glasgow Celtic and who I always for some reason felt were a bit more of the rebel club but I’ve got over it pretty easily. Throw in the fact Bohemians wear red and black, which are incidentally anarchist colours, and following the lads and supporting their team becomes a lot easier. Bohemians are also fan owned I think which is exactly what I want to hear. Fits in perfectly with the red and black anarchist the already self-confessed romantic in me is trying to push.
It’s now six hours later…and we lost heavily. My little cousin Marco, who now goes by the name Marcolinho, was in goal for the first half and he did alright made a few decent saves, centre back second half and a made some good tackles and blocks. The problem was the U10’s had too many call offs as so close to Christmas and they had to recruit a lot of U9’s and seemingly there is a huge difference in size between the two ages. Quite enjoyed cheering him on though and could easily imagine myself being quite a loud combustible father on the sidelines given the chance. We subsequently found ourself in the new Brewdog pub by the Royal Canal Dock, which fed my barge desire even further, and which was worth a visit as my dad and myself have a couple of shares and therefore a massive five percent off. I imagine it’ll be a popular place come next summer. But that’ll do for now, I’m going for another drink, before seeing my cousin DJing, isn’t Christmas tough.
Observations and Misunderstandings 