As a young teenager my main passions were football, and history. You can’t “do” history, or at least not if you’re a small boy, because it’s all in the past, and Henry XIII is too busy getting married again to discuss his motivations with you, so football it was. I used to rush around my garden kicking a ball and providing a commentary on the match at the same time. Resting between matches provided ample opportunity for daydreaming, and soon I was walking onto the pitch surrounded by my favourite players while the vast crowd cheered us on.
I was quietly modest, but with a killing touch on the ball which would see me ease down the wing with lightening speed before swerving inside, past the opposition defence and slotting the ball neatly in the back of the net. The real star players seemed to have little to do but stand around and save their energy for applauding me as another of my goals was marked up on the scoreboard. Not a bad life really. Sadly these daydreams did not end with a real life in professional football, surrounded by bathing beauties and men wearing designer sun glasses. Life in the guise of realism and common sense tactfully advised me that a future as a professional footballer might not be available to a boy whose other hobbies included bumping into furniture and wearing odd socks. Must calm down and make a sandwich.
I am reminded of another scenario where dreams may become sidetracked. Some years ago during an English lesson, the teacher, also a keen sports enthusiast has set his pupils the task of writing a poem. Twenty minutes are allowed and then a selected few can offer them up to the critical skills of their master. “Ok then”, says the teacher, ” Whose first out of the starting blocks.” A small and normally shy boy with dark curly hair raises his hand up and waits to be called. “Yes Shakespeare” says the teacher. “Read us your gem”
“To be or not to be” starts Shakespeare, admittedly a bit nervously. “No No No “ says the master. “To be or not to be” What are you talking about boy ?. ..Either it is or it isn’t, Make up your mind” Shakespeare tries to argue but it is clear his teacher is not going to be impressed. ” All right boy. Sit down and have a go at writing something that isn’t so painfully indecisive.”… “Right whose next”
“Ah Partridge, said the teacher. stand up and lets hear what the football captain has to offer.” Partridge cleares his throat and declaimes the following words in a calm and steady voice….”Custard was a clever Boy,…. He liked to eat a lot….. One day he bit off far too much,…. and found his throat was blocked”
“Brilliant” says the teacher. “Short pithy and with an important lesson on greed. Just what the man on the go needs to read in these days of gluttony.”. “Ah there’s the bell. We’ll have a few more poems in the next lesson boys.”
Despite these gruelling examinations of talent,and unlike my experiences in the football industry, some of these boys went on to decent careers in the wide world beyond the school gates. Shakespeare, unbowed by his teacher’s comments, became a noted carpenter, most famous for building the revolving staircase at the Globe Theatre.
There’s no accounting for taste, now is there?
Okay, you had me laughing with this one… and I can’t help but wonder about old Shakespeare had he written, “It is or it isn’t.” Today, that would be followed by, ‘I can’t make up my ******* mind.’
The college I attended back in the Stone Age had a couple of British players… they went undefeated my first year there. The team had a reputation as nasty, and opposing teams complained. One day I’m sitting on the field just beyond the white line. A referee blows a whistle, a player on the opposing team is standing there looking at the ref, and here comes one of our British players, full speed past me, perhaps another six or seven metres, right into the unaware player. Our guy flattened the player, and then reached down with a hand and said, “Sorry, I couldn’t stop.”
You all play rough. Wise choice not to pursue that route.
Funny stuff Peter! It’s so true how our vernacular changes over time and what is considered the classics now couldn’t get published today. hmm.
b
Love it
Funny poems are the best! I wish I had had poetry at school. No such luck
I thought Shakespeare played centre forward for Tranmere Rovers. Some key facts missing here.
Was it Tranmere, or Port Vale. I know he got sacked for stealing some Pork pies from the canteen, hence the carpenting career, but I’m not certain about the club
ROFL!!!!
So clever!
Love reading your ponderings.
They take me back.
There once was a young man named Peter
Who everyone knew was a leader
Whether football or prose
To the occasion he rose
How could anything be any sweeter.
I won’t reply in kind, but thankyou velly much says this master of typing
Love it how you make me laugh. SO needed that today
You’re great! Ah, Shakespeare…
You are the maker of the ultimate sausage sandwich…..applause…..admiration…bask in it P. xx
Hahahaha!
I absolutely LOooooooVE your brilliant perspective on the world.
Thank GOD Shakespeare didn’t have a narrow minded teacher like that one! right?
I shall begin calling you Master Peter. Xxx
Its always very cheering when you comment on my Blog.
Counting Ducks, as he’s known to me
Often makes me smile
He reflects on the world in his way you see
And makes me think a while.
That’s the best I could come up with on this dreich Monday morning.
Hope you had a lovely Burns night, and thanks for the poem, which made me smile
You have such a wonderfully interesting way of looking at the world!
Bumping into furniture and wearing odd sock? Well, that clearly laid a decent foundation for your imagination! Nice post
So funny. Thank you for this. As an English teacher, I get it big time.
“Must calm down and make sandwich.” Ha ha!
The timing on this is brilliant as I felt I was watching the match alongside of sunglassed-donning, odd sock wearing soccer players.
Julie
You’re pretty funny, you know that right? I’m wondering what it was that you had on your sandwich? All that jazz about gluttony
One thing I learned as a student, sticking with the conventional gets you places in school. Maybe not in life, but definitely in school where the rules are clear and no one want a deviant (even if deviance means genius).
Do develop that funny bone you have Peter… ‘Tis a rare gift … humor.