I am trying to watch the football.
A live game from Germany. Played in a sanitised stadium. Draped in seat coverings. Without any fans.
The clamour to get the game – any game – back on to our screens, is something I am at odds with.
Because this isn’t football. Not really. Not the “people’s game” it claims to be.
It feels like an exercise to finish off a season. To meet the demands of commercial contracts, by securing a winner in front of a TV audience. Without the threat of court proceedings. Those same legal challenges which were thrown out of the French courts in recent days.
I often read that the game returning will lift our morale. That we need to get back to normal, and playing the game in the bubble they are wrapping around it, is the perfect antidote. Even if it isn’t the cure.
I just don’t buy it. Even if I do still pay for it.
It feels like a training match. Ruined by the commentators. Built up by a studio of presenters, sat a desk away from each other. I have no interest in seeing our game, The Premier League, returning like this.
“It’s because you are a Spurs fan” I can hear some of you saying. Sure, we’ve pretty much nothing left to play for, but then you can say that for half of the league. Full of teams where family members are still being tested for the virus. Who are out of contract before any resumed season will finish.
Where the inevitable champions only have to win two more games. Why not just give it to them? They deserve!
Clearly I am the problem; with my love waining. But will it all be worth it?
What ever it is?