It finally happened! Neither of my kids has been particularly into football, other than a quick kickaround in the garden once in a while, which is often replaced by basketball, or just tossing a tennis ball around.
We took a trip last October for a tour of Goodison and one last match (which was also a first match for both kids), but my son especially wasn’t fussed. He is on the autistic spectrum and had headphones on, keeping himself stimulated and not really engaging with his surroundings. It felt a great shame, given the history, but ultimately that history really didn’t mean anything to him, and the day passed him by without being particularly special. The match was probably a little overwhelming (and low on quality), but I think he did enjoy the spectacle of 40,000 fans packed in, under the lights. The trip was mostly for me though, and I’m thankful that they came along. I wanted to get them to Goodison, even if they didn’t care.
I’ve always been keen to get my son and daughter into football, whether playing or just watching, purely because it was a big part of my childhood and it’s a part of me that will always remain. Neither my daughter nor son has caught the bug…until now.
My son, now 8, expressed an interest in joining a local football team and going to training each week. I was very happy to hear this, though I tempered my own expectations as I half-expected it to be a short-lived thing. Three months in, and he is loving it. Living and breathing football, playing whenever he can, but still rarely watching.
I had the game vs Tottenham on my phone (I was half watching and half running round after kids, etc.), but suddenly I realised we were both just sat on the hallway carpet, watching the game on a little screen – him getting really into it and talking about what Pickford was doing (he wants to be a goalkeeper), me getting angrier and angrier with the performance but trying to keep it together as this was the first time being glued to it. Perhaps it wasn’t the ideal performance to decide whether or not he was going to be an Everton fan, but somehow it did the trick.
Now, he chooses to wear his 3rd kit whenever he can, and I can’t wait to take him to a match now that I know he will be watching it closely, emotionally invested, and appreciating the occasion. Living in the South that’s more awkward to do, but I’m hoping to get up to Bramley Moore for a weekend later in the season and ideally also grab some tickets for an away game in London if we are lucky!
We took a trip last October for a tour of Goodison and one last match (which was also a first match for both kids), but my son especially wasn’t fussed. He is on the autistic spectrum and had headphones on, keeping himself stimulated and not really engaging with his surroundings. It felt a great shame, given the history, but ultimately that history really didn’t mean anything to him, and the day passed him by without being particularly special. The match was probably a little overwhelming (and low on quality), but I think he did enjoy the spectacle of 40,000 fans packed in, under the lights. The trip was mostly for me though, and I’m thankful that they came along. I wanted to get them to Goodison, even if they didn’t care.
I’ve always been keen to get my son and daughter into football, whether playing or just watching, purely because it was a big part of my childhood and it’s a part of me that will always remain. Neither my daughter nor son has caught the bug…until now.
My son, now 8, expressed an interest in joining a local football team and going to training each week. I was very happy to hear this, though I tempered my own expectations as I half-expected it to be a short-lived thing. Three months in, and he is loving it. Living and breathing football, playing whenever he can, but still rarely watching.
I had the game vs Tottenham on my phone (I was half watching and half running round after kids, etc.), but suddenly I realised we were both just sat on the hallway carpet, watching the game on a little screen – him getting really into it and talking about what Pickford was doing (he wants to be a goalkeeper), me getting angrier and angrier with the performance but trying to keep it together as this was the first time being glued to it. Perhaps it wasn’t the ideal performance to decide whether or not he was going to be an Everton fan, but somehow it did the trick.
Now, he chooses to wear his 3rd kit whenever he can, and I can’t wait to take him to a match now that I know he will be watching it closely, emotionally invested, and appreciating the occasion. Living in the South that’s more awkward to do, but I’m hoping to get up to Bramley Moore for a weekend later in the season and ideally also grab some tickets for an away game in London if we are lucky!
