It’s Saturday night. It’s my mate’s 30th. And he’s planning a large one. 11pm comes around, so I go up to to say my goodbyes. I know what’s coming.
‘You’re f***ing what!? You aint leaving yet mate…we’re about to head into town’.
‘Nah, not me mate. Have a good one yeah…catch you tomorrow’.
‘Mate, what the f*** is so important that you gotta leave your best mate’s 30th at 11pm?’
He didn’t need me to answer. He knew. ‘Oh, a f***ing football match. What time’s it on?’
‘1.45am’, I said.
‘Alright man, whatever. Catch you later yeah’.
Welcome to my weekends – where ‘Game Day’ is actually ‘Game Night’.
Of course, it’s not always on at 1.45am. Usually it’s 4, which isn’t a whole lot better. Especially if you only get home at 2 from a night out. Do you go to sleep for two hours, or tough it out? It’s usually a bit of both – trying to sleep for two hours, but failing. It’s hard to doze off with life’s big questions circling in your brain – will he start Murray today? What about Zaha? Will Punch play in the middle?
3.45am comes around and it’s time to embark on the biggest gamble of my week – creeping out my room. Make it out unheard and all is well. Wake the Mrs in the process and there’s hell to pay. I don’t know why I bother – especially considering it’s inevitable she’ll be woken up by a massive ‘GET IN’ when Palace score anyway. Sundays are never much fun in my household.
I’d love nothing more than meeting up with a bunch of Palace fans on match day, sinking a few at the pub beforehand and walking to the stadium singing Glad All Over. But these are things that, for now, I can only dream of.
Then there’s the forums. I enjoy chat. I enjoy banter. Trouble is, when I’m at my most active online, 95% of the forum’s other users are asleep, which means I have to wait til’ later at night to see that person’s response to my hilariously sarcastic post about dropping Jules. Or whatever.
Yep. Ladies and gentlemen – the struggle is real.
That’s not even the tough part though. I’ll get up at 4am for the rest of my life for Palace. Without question. The tough part is living in a country where ‘soccer’ plays second fiddle to Rugby. In a big way.
Don’t get me wrong, people play footy. Lots, actually. But there’s so much joy to be had in chatting about footy. The banter. The tactics debates. The gloating to other fans – I don’t even know one Brighton, Millwall or Charlton fan over here.
Bar a few expats here and there, people aren’t really into the Premier League. Sure, they’ve heard of Messi. They’ve heard of Rooney. And they know that Winston Reid plays for some team over in England. But try having a conversation with them about how great Mile Jedinak is, or how incredible that piece of skill from Bolasie was – it’s depressing.
Spare time is spent playing touch rugby with mates – and when I do play footy on Saturdays, trying to explain the limitations of 4-4-2 uses up more energy than the game itself.
Ultimately, soccer is just another sport over here. Back home, it’s a lifestyle. And that’s what I miss the most.
I’ve grown to love New Zealand. Her lifestyle, her culture, her environment and her people make me proud to now call this wee little country home. I just wish she was passionate about the right shaped ball.
Support the Palace from overseas? What have I missed? Let me know!
