I have never been blessed with any discernible footballing talent. When the ball is still – like during a free-kick or corner – I can deliver with a decent level of accuracy. When it is rolling, however, there is a problem. In attack, much of the game is spent retrieving my shots from the surrounding foliage or through a smashed shed window. In defence I am as accommodating to the opposition as a bouncer is to an attractive, leggy, “I’m on the guestlist”, club-goer.
However much I tucked in my shirt in to look like Paul Dickov, I was never going to play for Manchester City. My dad, being the resourceful man he is, never took too kindly to me wasting time on the pitch.
“You’re not a footballer, son. You’re more suited to rugby” he said.
So I trained with the Shrewsbury and later, Oswestry, junior rugby union sides up until my social life on a Saturday night trumped being stamped out of a ruck on a Sunday morning. This, with the exception of a brief foray into crown green bowls and the occasional game of squash, marked the end of my sports career for a few years.
Suddenly, in Toronto, my weekly schedule is filled with sport. I captain two separate football teams on Tuesdays and Thursdays and have taken up snooker again – although the latter is admittedly more of a pub activity than a sport. Plans are afoot to field a cricket team next year, and I am slowly chipping away at my partner to allow me to put up a darts board in our house.
Although the city of Toronto has revived my competitive side, there is a pattern. All of these sports are British. I am neglecting North American games – am I being a snob?
Ice hockey just isn’t feasible. There are numerous charitable organisations that raise funds for underprivileged children to be able to play the game because it’s so expensive. To get yourself fully kitted out it could cost up to $2,000, and that doesn’t include the league fees. I am also among the large percentage of Brits who can’t ice skate: someone fearfully clinging to the perimeter wall is not of much use to a hockey team.
The kit required for American football is also pricey, nor am I as wide as I am tall – a mandatory physique for the defensive unit. My build and gross lack of athleticism also restricts me from having a serious crack at basketball. So the obvious choice is the one I watch the most: baseball. It’s basically rounders for people who enjoy mathematics, and its inception has been linked back to the UK.
As you might have guessed, I’m concerned about appreciating and not shunning any important aspects of this country. I feel that I have embraced much of the culture – important things like eating poutine and reading Margaret Atwood – but to play a North American sport is another way of embracing Canada.
If I just stuck with British sports I would be deliberately ignorant, and what would I be up to next? Shunning all Canadian music and forming a tribute band for The Beatles? If so, I would be primed for Paul’s position due to a familiar blunt suggestion I received around ten years ago.
“Your fingers are too chubby to play the guitar, son. You’ll have to play the bass instead.”
