The Power of Football

Football. A simple game with ubiquitous power. The power to inspire. The power to unite. The power to live. 

I am a thirty year old male, going through what could be described as a 'third-life crisis'. Searching for purpose, desperate to feel and experience meaning beyond the daily email firefight and gym routine.

An autumn escape - two of my best friends and I ventured to Germany, with little in mind other than drinking and watching football. A tested and proven formula.

Having arranged our last annual trip to Barcelona, magically experiencing Barcelona lift the La Liga title in front of a full and final outing for the Nou Camp, the bar was high. The image of red and yellow confetti falling gracefully before a breath-taking Barcelona red sky; lives fresh in the memory.

I left this trip in the hands of Parky, one of my longest friends and a fellow brainwashed Coventry City supporter. Expecting a Bayern vs Dortmund, German footballing feast; I was treated to Monchengladbach vs Heidenheimer. On paper, this suggested more of a footballing famine. Eternally an optimist - I dug deep for excitement.

We travelled to Cologne. Ironically, a city lacking a pleasant smell. We embraced the culture with pork schnitzel and pints for dinner. A heavy night of drinking was to come, where local 'Brauhouse' service features a constant reloading of beer, whilst you don't have a placemat over your glass.

Rising with a hangover, a bacon flavoured crisps stained bed and a rainy, grey sky - I was questioning my choices. Low in mood; I'm a man of few words. Without positive stimulation - I felt myself slipping into a feeling, familiar of late - lacking in a particular purpose. Driven - I embraced the 'fake it until you make it' principle. 

Embarking upon the stadium, the Monchengladbach fans embraced us with pleasant warmth. A fan comically exclaimed that we're ''in the wrong place if we're here to watch decent football''. At the ground - we embrace tradition with a currywurst and pint. Excitement for the game is building in fans around us but still I find myself wielding false enthusiasm.

As I climb the heavy-trodden, concrete stairs from the concourse into the arena, the anticipation starts to build with every step. Fittingly, so too does the sunlight as I gaze, fixated upwards. At the summit, pausing to reflect - my ears fill with the unrelenting roar of the fans. As my eyes connect with the glowing, green grass - a smile fills my face. 

I no longer have to pretend.