June 28 2004

William Shakespeare

Succumbing to the incessant pestering of HOL's editor, Jamesey expands on two of his favourite subjects... football and the Bard

Before I get cracking on my main theory, can I confess that I was once a Chelsea supporter. Hold on. Before you revile me and click on the exit button, let me explain.

In the 1950s, my parents were that era's equivalent of ethnic asylum seekers - he was Welsh and she was half Welsh and Scots. We settled in the Croydon suburb of Sanderstead.

My only football experiences in our south Wales homeland had been desultory visits to Cardiff City and Barry Town.

Naturally the oval ball game reigned supreme there at that time. After all, those were the days when Wales didn't get beaten by Italy, but terrified the tripes out of any unfortunate team confronting them on the field.

But the part of south London where we found ourselves - or Surrey, as it was called then - was more football-minded. The nearest top-flight football for a Croydon schoolboy was, I am afraid to say, Stamford Bridge.

And, to be fair, it was high-quality football with a Chelsea team containing England internationals like Roy Bentley and Frank Blunstone. I even saw Stanley Matthews play there once for Blackpool...or was it Stoke?

But my Damascene conversion was yet to come. Perhaps more of a wet Tuesday night at Selhurst rather than a blinding revelation. It was a friendly against Scottish club Hamilton Ackies and I have no recollection at all of the players or the result.

Suffice it to say, it was my first faltering step towards a lifetime passion of supporting what was then my local team. The mud, discomfort, lowly Third Division South status and frankly, crap football, were a far cry from the comparative glamour of 50s Stamford Bridge.

But the Glaziers became my team and, apart from a few unfaithful lapses due to work and illness, always have been.

And on the subject of long-term relationships, I certainly have CPFC to thank for my near 40-year marriage. A few fouls along the way but it looks like going to the final whistle (for one of us...)

My other half's contempt of, and disinterest in, anything to do with football, have happily left us pursuing our own activities rather than sitting around at home getting on each others' nerves. I took her to a Millwall home derby in 1973 and to the FA Cup Final replay in 1990.

But her enthusiasm for the beautiful game has remained about as strong as mine for her favourite activities - gardening, Coronation Street and martial arts.

Blimey, don't we old codgers ramble on. I've quite forgotten what I was going to write about. (You said you would explain beyond doubt that Shakespeare was a football fan and thereby give HOL real credibility in the top echelons of UK journalism - Ed.)

Ah, yes. Now I remember. There are dozens of crackpot theories about the evolution of the game of football but a careful study of Shakespeare proves that the game was certainly alive and thriving by Elizabethan times.

Not content with being England's - if not the world's - towering genius of literature, WS's keenness for football was so acute that he constantly peppered his work with allusions to it - some of them remarkably prescient. After all he could only have been referring to the Selhurst Park Trevor Francis era when Romeo spoke of "this Palace of dim night".

And until now, from 1999, CPFC's bids for a play-off place is superbly summed up in As You Like It. "Where none will sweat but for promotion. And having that do choke their service up."

And who but boastful club chairmen could the Bard have had in mind when he penned the following in Henry VIII? "His promises were, as he was then, mighty. But his performances, as he is now, nothing."

And can't you just hear Henry V's battle call as the perfect half-time dressing room entreaty. "He which hath no stomach for the fight, let him depart".

My own personal favourite, Hamlet, is littered with football references. "All is not well; I doubt some foul play." "Revenge his foul..." "Good my lord, will you see the players well bestowed?" "Come, my coach! Goodnight ladies."

I could go on for ever quoting examples (Please don't - Ed). But time and space are running out and I must give WS the last word. Not strictly football, but a sage piece of lifestyle advice from King Lear. "Have more than thou showest, speak less than thou knowest, lend less than thou owest."

Email Jamesey with any of your comments to Jevans3704@aol.com

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