The World Game
I sent an article to MAHE on Wednesday night,and it went for a walk through cyberspace,never to be seen again.
That is so annoying. You guys might spend five minutes writing a comment,only to see it disappear. And that is annoying enough! I spent an hour writing the article,no sign of it anywhere.
Anyway,I was out in that London with my nephew on Wednesday. He is just a lovely guy,just turned 30yo and has his life sorted. I can remember when I was 30yo,and it wasn’t too pleasant. I have a niece too,recently qualified doctor. Hey,get me,huh?
Thing is,she loves going to the football,my nephew doesn’t. I took him to the game in 2006 when we commemorated Jinky,he was maybe 13yo at the time. I think it was the last game he ever went to.
My niece? She loves it. Off to the match to meet her Mum,her aunt and her Papa. Maybe even her daft uncle,now and again.
I’ve mentioned before about me and SOLKITTS heading home about two in the morning,see ya about eleven. Aye,good lad. I’m taking my kid sis with us.
Ten years old,but Celtic daft. You sure? Oh,aye. I’m f…..g sure,all right.
My nephew,well,he SHOULD have got Celtic,but it never quite happened for him. It happens,it doesn’t spoil the fun we have when we meet up. Nothing could. My sisters and my niece,well,they’re girls and they aren’t supposed to even be into football,are they?
Yet,they could tell you more about a game than I can. ATHINGOFBEAUTY could play it better than I ever could,too.
We’ve just seen the Euros,which England won. I didn’t watch a single game,if I’m honest,as work got in the way. As it will with the World Cup,damn these night shifts. It’s a funny old game,as Greavesie said. A funny old game,when the girls in my family are at the matches more often than the blokes.
It’s a funny old game that makes us all as mad about it as we are,write a blog,comment on the blog,turn up every week.
Fall out for a few seconds with people about mere incidentals-but love the fella back because his heart is where ours is,and we both just want the best for the club.
SALTIRES writes his article every week,it tells us where we come from. It maybe explains too what our club means to us,and why. My Dad taking me to the game,when I was four years old. Me taking my sister to her first game,at 10yo. Sorry,sis-I should have done that earlier. My Dad was only 4yo when HIS Dad took him to a game-and that was during the war.
Maybe converting an absolutely not interested fella,nothing worse than a convert,Celtic daft to this day,forty years later.
There’s just something about Celtic,something special,that
That bites. That hooks us right away.
Above article by BMCUWP.