When you tell someone you don’t like something, their first response is often that you don’t understand it. They often can’t comprehend how you can’t love something in the same way they do.
And I really don’t like football.
That’s not because I don’t understand it. Lord knows, as an English person, I’ve been forced to endure it often enough over the years. I don’t even mind the game itself, having a kickabout in the park with jumpers for goalposts; it’s the sport of football that I find incongruous, by which I guess I mean all the trappings that surround the game that plays out on the pitch. From the rampant capitalism and the obscene wages, to the cult of celebrity and the deification of people with a minor skill, to the tribalism and irrational hatred it breeds in the fans – I find the whole thing rather unsavoury.
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