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On 26th
February, 1964, I made my debut in a small Buckinghamshire
village called Chalfont St. Giles. The son of a butcher, I
soon developed a taste for blood sports. Thanks to a
particularly successful tournament watched through the bars of
my cot, I dropped the blood sports in favour of football
(Terry Butcher and Paul Ince may dispute that). I was
fortunate enough to pick Arsenal as my team, not a logical
choice as I lived nearly 200 miles from Manchester and
Highbury was just down the road.
My sister's boyfriend
took me to my first match in 1976. Bunging the attendant an
extra ten bob, we squeezed through the turnstile together, not
an easy feat with his ample beer-gut already taking the space
of two people. Standing in the Clock End, we were thoroughly
entertained by such unforgettable stars as John Devine, Mark
Heeley and Steve Brignall (look 'em up - it's true)! There is
no evidence to suggest that George Graham was working the gate
that year.
In my early teens, I started going along to
England matches at Wembley Stadium (an historical monument,
now the backdrop to a big Sunday Market). I particularly
remember the game in 1980 in which Dave Johnson put a brace
past world champions Argentina in our three-one win. Less
pleasant memories of Argentina come to mind when I remember
the 1986 World Cup in Brazil. I had real trouble coming to
terms with the way the commentator applauded Maradona's
"brilliant" second goal, when earlier in the game he'd scored
with the infamous "hand of god".
It was a school
careers interview that was to be the greatest influence on my
later life. I was asked "Do you want to work indoors or
outdoors?" Thanks to top counselling like that, I was led into
the world of glamour and excitement that only mechanical
engineering can deliver. I designed everything from furnaces
to furniture and photocopiers, eventually landing a job with a
mobile phone company. I could seemingly design anything
starting with an "f" sound.
After a few years getting
up people's noses in the UK, they sent me to the furthest
office that would take me. That office was Tokyo. Two years on
I'd achieved so little that the UK still didn't want me back.
My contract was extended, and that's how I ended up in the
right place at the right time for the greatest show on earth,
The 2002 FIFA World Cup!
Tokyo is not such a backwater
as you may think for a Premiership football fan. You can see
live TV games even on Saturday (try that at home), and what's
more they're on at the perfect time to watch in the pub.
Unfortunately, the evening games are on at an ungodly hour of
the morning, but that doesn't stop the die-hards going to the
pub to watch them. Thanks to very liberal licensing laws, it's
not difficult to get a pint at four in the morning in a footy
bar! My Japanese wife of one year (no, that's not her age) is
very tolerant of my need to watch "suckar". She doesn't share
the obsession, but lets me out if I can convince her it's a
"must see" game. This has been a great bonus during Arsenal's
storming run through to the double this year!
Well,
that just about covers who I am and how I got here, now a
little about the immediate future. I'm in Japan until August,
when I've been allowed to go home. I have tickets to a handful
of World Cup games, and I'm going to take you with me. We'll
have to watch some of them in the pub, so bring your beer
head, and don't forget your umbrella, it's rainy
season.
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