Not Always Just a Game…….

Originally Written for Nutmeg Issue 28

Football, is it just a sport with twenty-two kicking a ball about? A hobby maybe?  Is it an addiction to some? A compulsion to others? Is it even a religion to those inclined? A family get together. Or a simple get away from the other half? I suppose you could say there are arguments to back up all the options that’s for sure. But to some people it is a lot more to them. I am one of those people. In my own eyes as time has passed and I have grown more grizzled and greyer, the fitba has become a whole lot more than just simply a sport, a piss up or banter with the lads which it tended to be in years gone by. It has morphed into what has become a therapy, a medicine for the blues and the metal troughs which have become more frequent as time has gone on. Football can have a noradrenaline boosting like effect on my brain and can pick me up when I find myself stuck in a gully. Since I hit adulthood, I have been faced with numerous low points in life. More than many people will go through. My existence has a habit of throwing up something ace and quickly following and surpassing that in terms of bad soon after crashing me back down with a thunderous thud. Time has been shaved of my twilight years; of that I am sure due to the sometimes-unbearable stress at certain points. When the chips were well and truly down, I didn’t have my mates there (barring one who cared), they were 99% nowhere to be seen. I had nobody to come home to or speak to in the house and my parents were left alone overall as I didn’t want them to worry. I would sit alone at home or offshore and stew in what felt like a dearth of positive cards I had drawn in adult life.

As stated above football became pretty much an anti-depressant during the tougher periods of my life, it acted as a crutch in phases where days were become darker and more enveloping. Football was a therapy for me. I chose it over fluoxetine or such like. It all started a few years back I found myself unemployed for the guts of a year, this coming at the same time as my marriage was in its death throws and my youngest was just an infant. This was at the time the oil industry had slumped meaning the jobs had dried up leaving me failing to find employment in my chosen field. The domino effect obviously causing the bank account to also dry up and more uneasiness to my already burned-out brain. The stress levels were as you can imagine at an all-time high and my head had a wobble. A “situational malfunction” it was put down to by a professional. One I decided to speak to as I couldn’t sleep, my mood was at an all-time low and I just couldn’t be around people or wanted to be in all honesty. During our meet she asked what my hobbies were. I explained I watched Aberdeen and had started dipping into more football as a neutral, specifically, the Highland League. I will never forget the words that were sent back in my direction. “Keep it going”. After enquiring what she meant with this retort I was told that I undoubtedly enjoyed a ninety-minutes here and there and that plus the day out in general was the ideal get away from my issues. That was that I absorbed more football than I was in the habit of. People can turn to drink and in truth had been on that trajectory by this point. There can be drugs or even a lot worse in times of need. I though, I turned to the Highland League. It made a mammoth difference to life and was one of the major factors that got me through, it lightened the darkening clouds and got me in a new way of thinking. From the HFL other ideas were triggered such as the 42 and saw the game become a colossal factor in how I kept my “shit together”.

How did this happen? How can a sport or hobby or whatever your take on it is help make your brain function in a more familiar trouble-free fashion again? To start it got me away from real life. Something that was as simple as that made a massive difference. I hadn’t thought about going out my way to be active as I was too busy hating people and the world with a vengeance. Shutting off for a period and concentrating on what was in front of me was like a mental vacation and a gargantuan relief. To the extent of a feeling of liberation. Whether it was few hours nearby at Inverurie Locos or a half day shift up at Wick Academy it helped my woes disappear for a while simultaneously perking me up. With this, the travel whether train, driving or taxi would see me filled with excitement for a new ground and the potential of finding a gem in a town or city I had never visited before. (City more so as I spread my wings a bit). Then once in these places, I found it refreshing talking to random people about the game and anything really and heading to these outposts where I know nobody and will 99 times out of 100 never see these people ever again. At the same time feeling the warmth and friendliness of these folk. Speaking football is one thing I have over the years become quite proficient at, and it was brilliant to listen the opinions and tales of the others and especially diehards of these clubs I would drop in on. Sitting in the pubs pre-match not with the paranoid feeling of my life was like the Truman Show was a big plus point. Nobody knew my business as I sat there with a pint and paper. There was no fear of meeting somebody I recognised and would have had to idly chit chat with them pretending life was a happy place. Then at the games there was the taking the obligatory thumbs up photo at the gate which I now have hundreds of. There was the tasting all the pies whether good or bad which was always a must at every club visited (the steak effort at Forres Mechanics, exquisite). Finding quirks of grounds was a hoot too, like slopes, hedges, shutters on stands, fox wire around the perimeter hoarding and nearby silos shadowing large sections of the pitch and many more joyous wee splendours. Architecture was a big favourite too and always will be so seeing some of these antiquated stands was right up my street. But while I was immersed in my surroundings, what was happening elsewhere in life was nowhere near my thought process. It was incredible. But then I had to go home to my empty house and agitate. But there was always the next game.

More good crept into life around this time as I was writing about these journeys for the sadly defunct Aberdeen fanzine The Red Final which also gave me an outlet for my mind to wander into happier frame while verbalising about football and often the locations I had found myself and the experiences I witnessed. This gave me a taste for penning my tales and again helped me put my concentrations into something different. I had always read but jotting stuff down was new to me, and I wrote a lot of pieces too. Quite substantial in length at times too. Some that has never went to print (yet). Further down the line I started a website which is followed in decent numbers and read and visited by to me what is incredible numbers daily. This linked with a Twitter account. To follow this up as it would not have happened without the football and Twitter combo, my eldest and myself appeared on A View from The Terrace after a detail to do with our travels was spotted by a member of the shows team. This led to being filmed up at Lossiemouth v Deveronvale (this being a deliberate choice of game as the Highland league was the instigator of it all in the first place). A truly wonderful experience surrounded by four of the nicest guys you could hope to meet while me and Jake did what we do best. Then in addition to that I have even had a couple of my ideas make the screen in their fantastic VT sections. Something that gratified me no end and hope to be a part of again in the future. But the writing has kept going, and I have had various pieces printed in magazines and books in the last couple of years. But more importantly I have now released a book on what I was told would help me all those years ago which is chocked full of tales that mostly would not have existed if it were not for my troubles in the 2010s. None of the above would have played out if I didn’t seek solace in football. It is amazing that from thinking your life was over, not being sure you even wanted a life and you had failed as a human being was mended by a something that is “just a game” to others. Life works in mysterious ways

However, I have never been far away from needing the football induced mood boosts, long standing lows still exist at this moment in time, the darkness never fully disappeared . This may explain why I am sitting scouring the fixtures for the Strathspey and Badenoch League to get me out of the house in the summer months. This is not a sympathy drive at all and that would never be my intention, it’s an awareness for the people around you. I have my two boys and some other wonderful people in my life. But that there is just it. Some people dont and need football, it is clearly was a major coping mechanism for me. Really football helped me overcome adversity, and I am sure it has for others too as will other sports or leisure activities. People live for football. Look at the old geezers whose get out for the week is their local Junior team, or the guys who have been involved with their clubs for decades who have put in enormous efforts that cannot be calculated into the teams they love. They might do this for varying reason. But for some it is for underlying tribulations you will never know or see.  So next time you are at a game say “fit like” to the person standing next to you, whether it is Banks o’ Dee, Boat of Garten Ospreys or wherever. You never know, it might make their day. They may just be trying to get away from their hardships and need reassurance that life is not against them.