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This was a pleasant read.
There's always hope, or - how my girlfriend learned to love football
By Yinon G | 11/10/09
I'm writing this post in order to bring some hope to you men (mostly), whose partners for life give them a hard time over their fascination with the beautiful game. I'll start at the end:
In May 2009, a business trip "forced" me to go to Barcelona. The trip happened to coincide with a home match against Villareal, and I hoped that the game would be the championship game. A week before, the La Liga results were in our favor, and I was all excited about watching Barcelona winning the title at home (eventually they didn't do it that day). I was not the only one excited, my girlfriend Aya was, too. Perhaps, even more than I was. We were destined to be at the Camp Nou a week later, and she couldn't wait going there.
But it didn't start that way at all. On the contrary. Aya and I met two years ago. We used to meet a few times a week in the evenings and there were very good signs this was going to be the relationship we were looking for. It didn’t take her long to notice my addiction to football. At the time, I lived by myself and had plenty of free time for live football on TV. In some weeks during the season's long peak, I could easily watch 4 games a week (only 4, since I did want to have some life).
It took Aya about a month and a half to realize what she was walking into. She had absolutely no sympathy or respect for my love to sports and football in particular. Televised football and Aya were parallel dimensions. She could not understand how the hell I get so excited by merely watching football, and not even practicing it. It was early in Rijkaard's last season in Barcelona, and the range of emotions erupting from me amazed her. She could not understand how I got so angry with a game which I'm not an active part of, played by some players thousands of kilometers from us. She used to say "I'd understand it if you had something to do about it, or if you were playing, but I can't understand how you can watch so much, and why you care so much". Simply out, she thought I was some kind of a monkey.
The crisis was only a matter of time, and it was not late to show up. We were living in different parts of town, and at times I was occupied with two Champions League and sometimes two league matches a week (Spanish, German, you know how it is). This of course meant that a small part of the week was left for "us". When it came to this, Aya was actually reconsidering our relationship (and she's here nodding her head when I'm writing that J). With time I tried to balance between the two things, giving up on more games as the relationship grew. It made things better, but still, she showed no understanding for my obsession.
I don't remember the day it all changed. It was a gradual process, but today she admits that it started with a conscious move of "if you can't beat them, join them". If she only knew where this small step will take her…
I guess watching the Euro2008 with friends on a large screen and some beers helped out because Aya finally understood the social aspect of football. I do remember one particular occasion – the day in which she was introduced to the concept of offside. Actually, I tried a couple of times until I managed to explain it. You all know that teaching your girlfriend what offside is constitutes a massive development in one's love life. �
Anyway, as time passed she tried to connect to my hobby, started asking questions and expressing somewhat of an interest in football. Of course, it was annoying at first ("which color does Real Madrid play in?", "Why was this goal disallowed?", "why does the goalkeeper wear a different color?"), but slowly and steadily she started to get the grasp of it and we started to enjoy each other's company when we watched the Barca games.
And then, we decided to move in together.
I remember the night before we moved in. We were exhausted after cleaning our new rented apartment for 8 hours, but Barca played Atletico Madrid and I wanted badly to watch the match. I got SMS updates from a friend and couldn't believe I was not watching. My old apartment was already packed in boxes, and the TV disconnected from the satellite receiver. We went back home with the sole desire of going to bed, but I didn't give up.
Imagine this – me, sitting on the filthy floor surrounded with boxes, trying to connect the receiver back to the TV. I was only able to get the audio transmission, with no visual signal. It was a terrible scene since I knew Barca was giving its best game for ages, but there was another thing in the room - I could actually feel some signs of sympathy, and I suspect that Aya also wanted to watch.
Living together made the time issue a lot easier, although I still got some frowns in busy football weeks. But then came Barca and made the difference. We started watching La Liga together week in week out. I was explaining the moves, providing facts about the players, coupled with football history, tactics and skills, and Aya was rating the players' "hotness" or "cuteness". One of these evenings, I realized that she was not watching it for me, but was actually enjoying it. And I mean the football, not the hot and cute guys. Aya got hooked, even though back then she didn't admit it.
After a critical mass of games, Aya already developed preference for some players (Casillas, Messi, Eto'o) and teams. Some things were still a bit beyond her reach – "how can you hate Real Madrid if you like Raul, Casillas, and Zidane?", or "why do you hate Mourinho so much? He is hot!". What still fascinates me are the things I see but she doesn't when we both watch the same match. I always explain to her that if you never played you can’t appreciate some of the smaller things in the game, and understand how exciting and beautiful they are. For example – last week I tried to explain how players know, by instinct, to pass the ball to empty areas, confident that someone will get there in time.
�
So, how are things today, you're asking? We never make plans for Saturday night. We're still watching at least one match a week together, and we brought another girl home – a 42 inch plasma TV. Aya even persuaded me to go back playing football on Friday afternoon. There's still some way to go, for example – teaching her to watch the entire Champions League TV show, including highlights of all matches, but I really can’t complain.
This is it. I hope I filled you with some hope rather than frustration or jealousy. If there's a will, there's a way, and all it takes is a little feminine open mindedness. After all, I do all the laundry and cleaning...
There's always hope, or - how my girlfriend learned to love football
By Yinon G | 11/10/09
I'm writing this post in order to bring some hope to you men (mostly), whose partners for life give them a hard time over their fascination with the beautiful game. I'll start at the end:
In May 2009, a business trip "forced" me to go to Barcelona. The trip happened to coincide with a home match against Villareal, and I hoped that the game would be the championship game. A week before, the La Liga results were in our favor, and I was all excited about watching Barcelona winning the title at home (eventually they didn't do it that day). I was not the only one excited, my girlfriend Aya was, too. Perhaps, even more than I was. We were destined to be at the Camp Nou a week later, and she couldn't wait going there.
But it didn't start that way at all. On the contrary. Aya and I met two years ago. We used to meet a few times a week in the evenings and there were very good signs this was going to be the relationship we were looking for. It didn’t take her long to notice my addiction to football. At the time, I lived by myself and had plenty of free time for live football on TV. In some weeks during the season's long peak, I could easily watch 4 games a week (only 4, since I did want to have some life).
It took Aya about a month and a half to realize what she was walking into. She had absolutely no sympathy or respect for my love to sports and football in particular. Televised football and Aya were parallel dimensions. She could not understand how the hell I get so excited by merely watching football, and not even practicing it. It was early in Rijkaard's last season in Barcelona, and the range of emotions erupting from me amazed her. She could not understand how I got so angry with a game which I'm not an active part of, played by some players thousands of kilometers from us. She used to say "I'd understand it if you had something to do about it, or if you were playing, but I can't understand how you can watch so much, and why you care so much". Simply out, she thought I was some kind of a monkey.
The crisis was only a matter of time, and it was not late to show up. We were living in different parts of town, and at times I was occupied with two Champions League and sometimes two league matches a week (Spanish, German, you know how it is). This of course meant that a small part of the week was left for "us". When it came to this, Aya was actually reconsidering our relationship (and she's here nodding her head when I'm writing that J). With time I tried to balance between the two things, giving up on more games as the relationship grew. It made things better, but still, she showed no understanding for my obsession.
I don't remember the day it all changed. It was a gradual process, but today she admits that it started with a conscious move of "if you can't beat them, join them". If she only knew where this small step will take her…
I guess watching the Euro2008 with friends on a large screen and some beers helped out because Aya finally understood the social aspect of football. I do remember one particular occasion – the day in which she was introduced to the concept of offside. Actually, I tried a couple of times until I managed to explain it. You all know that teaching your girlfriend what offside is constitutes a massive development in one's love life. �
Anyway, as time passed she tried to connect to my hobby, started asking questions and expressing somewhat of an interest in football. Of course, it was annoying at first ("which color does Real Madrid play in?", "Why was this goal disallowed?", "why does the goalkeeper wear a different color?"), but slowly and steadily she started to get the grasp of it and we started to enjoy each other's company when we watched the Barca games.
And then, we decided to move in together.
I remember the night before we moved in. We were exhausted after cleaning our new rented apartment for 8 hours, but Barca played Atletico Madrid and I wanted badly to watch the match. I got SMS updates from a friend and couldn't believe I was not watching. My old apartment was already packed in boxes, and the TV disconnected from the satellite receiver. We went back home with the sole desire of going to bed, but I didn't give up.
Imagine this – me, sitting on the filthy floor surrounded with boxes, trying to connect the receiver back to the TV. I was only able to get the audio transmission, with no visual signal. It was a terrible scene since I knew Barca was giving its best game for ages, but there was another thing in the room - I could actually feel some signs of sympathy, and I suspect that Aya also wanted to watch.
Living together made the time issue a lot easier, although I still got some frowns in busy football weeks. But then came Barca and made the difference. We started watching La Liga together week in week out. I was explaining the moves, providing facts about the players, coupled with football history, tactics and skills, and Aya was rating the players' "hotness" or "cuteness". One of these evenings, I realized that she was not watching it for me, but was actually enjoying it. And I mean the football, not the hot and cute guys. Aya got hooked, even though back then she didn't admit it.
After a critical mass of games, Aya already developed preference for some players (Casillas, Messi, Eto'o) and teams. Some things were still a bit beyond her reach – "how can you hate Real Madrid if you like Raul, Casillas, and Zidane?", or "why do you hate Mourinho so much? He is hot!". What still fascinates me are the things I see but she doesn't when we both watch the same match. I always explain to her that if you never played you can’t appreciate some of the smaller things in the game, and understand how exciting and beautiful they are. For example – last week I tried to explain how players know, by instinct, to pass the ball to empty areas, confident that someone will get there in time.
�
So, how are things today, you're asking? We never make plans for Saturday night. We're still watching at least one match a week together, and we brought another girl home – a 42 inch plasma TV. Aya even persuaded me to go back playing football on Friday afternoon. There's still some way to go, for example – teaching her to watch the entire Champions League TV show, including highlights of all matches, but I really can’t complain.
This is it. I hope I filled you with some hope rather than frustration or jealousy. If there's a will, there's a way, and all it takes is a little feminine open mindedness. After all, I do all the laundry and cleaning...
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