The Offside Rule

I finally made it today.

I was allowed to stand with the football touch line crowd. 

It has taken quite a few weeks for me to be accepted into that social group but my hard work paid off on that cold, windy forsaken plateau of a pitch way out on the outer limits of an East Yorkshire market town. 

The route to taking up a valid position in that straggly line of mums and dads just inside the crowd control string barrier has involved turning up at Wednesday night winter outdoor training sessions, attending the team Christmas Party and, as well as showing my face at the home and away games which has taken me as far distant as you can go to the East of Hull, there have been the all day tournaments, one-off stamina exercises at the martial arts club and a few football themed celebration do’s for those in the squad of the Under 11’s who are in their last year of eligibility for that age group. 

Hang on a minute, those who know me might question my affiliation to that, and indeed any youth based football team. 

Yes, I am in my mid fifties, no I am not on the coaching or mentoring staff, no my own children are all over the age of 22, no me and the wife do not have any grandchildren. 

To explain, I qualify for acceptance in that select band of parents, supporters and sponsors in that I am usually on duty to drive the son of our good friend Mehdi to meet his commitments as the fast and skilful number 11 who has just this last couple of seasons broken into the first selection of players. 

That does give me a toe hold, albeit tentative, on that touchline . 

I acknowledge that in the hierarchy of birth mother and father, step ma or da, uncle, auntie, brother, sister, cousin, grandparents and legal guardians I am well down the list. 

That was all too clear to me in the first few attendances at matches when I was viewed with suspicion, caution and disinterest although I did try a few opening lines on a footballing subject such as the most recent performance of Hull City, the state of the Premier League, bad refereeing decisions, potential improvements to the offside rule and then resorting to shameful name dropping about meeting famous ex Professional players over the last thirty years or so. 

Unfortunately, and no disrespect meant to the parents of the team their average age was a little over 35 and so my dredging up of personalities that I remembered from my childhood football card collection in the 1970’s brought about no inklings of recognition unless of course the respective players were currently in management, on the TV working as pundits or otherwise notorious for off pitch nefarious dealings. 

I had hoped that freezing my nuts off whilst watching the team all chase after, at the same time, a bright yellow ball in near blizzard conditions in a murky floodlit all weather playing area may have fast tracked me to the "in crowd" but these were tough parents and my rite of passage would be much more involved. 

There were, of course,  the usual polite non verbal gestures such as a nod of the head or restrained wave of a thermal gloved hand.

Gradually a few conversations passed between us on those early season training nights although their tone was more like the probings in a job interview about a)what was my link to their number 11, b)who was the blonde woman who sometimes shared the driving duties and c) was I local myself. 

I was making an effort bringing along a sharing sized thermos and pocketful of the best caramel products by Tunnocks but this was an empty offering as I was hesitant in making the first move for fear of rejection. 

I see know that I was being tested as to my commitment and loyalty to the team and it culminated in today's momentous invitation, although nothing was actually said or implied, to join the linear arranged inner circle ( I apologise for the mixture of geometrical shapes).

I was proud as punch to be there and even chanced a few remarks about the quality of passing and shooting by the lads even though they were, just after half time, losing 7-1. 

Trouble is I had not yet put together which parent or person went with which under 11's player and so any comments had to be non-subjective, neutral and with no element of criticism or singling out of any one. 

There is a very good and sporting spirit nowadays on that touchline which is major improvement to that experienced in past years when pitched battles between parents, foul language, insulting and bullying behaviour towards the opponents and the match officials was rife. I found that I fitted into that mind-set easily although I had to exhibit self discipline in not drawing attention to the very fat kid on the other team who just legged up our players with no apparent inclination to play the ball. 

On balance I think I passed today's initiation. 

It was a bitterly cold morning and that common suffering in the name of sport was a very unifying force. 

I did get the best laugh when I noticed, in a quiet spell in the match, that my jiggling about from one leg to the other to keep warm had actually charmed up a worm from that heavy, clogging clay field. 

I fancy that I might propose that as a special test of endurance for those following me on their own quest to be a touchline parent or by other form of proxy at such time as I get asked to make a meaningful contribution.