Creative Writing: Football

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Creative Writing: Football

Take the greatest feeling you know and multiply it ten-fold and you are still nowhere near to the feeling of a last minute goal in a vital league match. I suppose you have to like football to understand where I am coming from here and indeed to understand this essay, although I think you will understand the essay anyway.

Premiership football is the greatest spectator sport in the world. It is the king among kings. Its speed and its passion set it apart from any other league in the world. This is why a Premiership match is such a big occasion in my life. In total I have been to seven Premiership games in my time, and by the end of the season, will have been to two division one games, but none of them could match up to this one.

I am a Blackburn Rovers supporter, as loyal as you can get, true blue if you know what I mean. Living in London however, I don't know how this came about. I have been supporting them for as long as I can remember. I think it started off by being bought a jersey, going on to sticking a team poster up on my bedroom wall, and finished off by a sister advising me not to support Tottenham and a granddad advising me not to support arsenal! Football-wise we were as average as north London goes. Living so far away from Lancashire, I couldn't get to many home games - although that will change this season, so I had to restrict myself to away games in London.

My granddad is the nicest and most honest person I know. He is always there for us and has great pride in all members of his family. I will talk about him later on in my autobiography, but he is the one who came up with the ideas and tickets to the match.

The day itself

The month was November, the year 1994, the season we won the title, the match a big one. I remember waking up in my second floor bedroom with a feeling of tired excitement. As I drew back the curtains I realised that this was going to be one of the best and most enjoyable days of my life. I looked out I saw north London and beyond. The neighbours were up already, on one side the Turks and on the other the Africans. The garden was a great sight to behold as well. The winter sun breaking through the clouds like gilt - edged bread knives piercing grey candyfloss and then reflecting off the dew soaked lawn like sparkling emeralds. Everything was perfect... so far anyway.

We left the house around mid-day. At that point it was just me and my dad, who of course, was cheering on spurs. We drove to my granddads house in wood green. He was in cracking from, half scaring me and half livening me up. He was up for it as much as I was.
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The next stop for us was the pub where we were to meet my dad and granddads friends. On the way there we passed two of my old schools, three of my friend's houses, the Gaelic pitch and the boxing club. We went into the pub and it was like stepping into a new world. The pub was filled with some amazing sounds, smells, sights and songs. As you walk in you can hear the laughter, the pool balls rattle, the low murmured hum of conversation and gossip; they sounded like a swarm of lazy bees. You could ...

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