Howay the Lads

There’s a whole lot of sexiness out there in Blogland these days, thanks to the circulation of a couple of awards. Bloggers are flinging open their closet doors, so to speak, and are heating up the blogosphere with the torrid confessions of what sexiness means to them. Eyebrows are shooting skyward, cases of the vapours are abundant, and the sudden demand for decorative fans has revived an industry not properly seen since Victorian times.

I really hate to fan the flames further, but it has been a long time since I added any eye candy to my blog, and I feel compelled to do so. I’ll give the usual specimens a rest this time, and will let the world in on my secret celebrity crush. Well, it’s not totally a secret, as a select few have known about it for many years. I don’t talk football/soccer with all that many people, though, and the subject of His Gorgeousness rarely comes up in general conversation, so it still qualifies as a secret, I think. At least until now.

It comes as a shock to most when they find out that I am a footie fan, and especially that I’m a Newcastle United fan. Which I understand, totally, as the northeast of England is a long way from the Canadian prairies. I’m also well aware of the image that I present, particularly to those meeting me for the first time. Just remember, though, that you can truly never judge a book by its cover. A plethora of shocking secrets lurk beneath this bookish, ladylike exterior. Which is all that I’m saying on that particular subject at present.

Soccer is one of the very few sports that I actually enjoyed playing at school, and at which I had even a hint of skill. Then I acquired a best friend in my early school years, who had been born in England, and it all kind of took off from there. She was a Geordie by birth, and naturally grew up cheering for the home side. So, spending lots of time at her house during my formative years turned me into a Newcastle fan by immersion. Besides which, the uniform appealed to my aesthetic sense in a big way. You know how it is with we women.

Said Geordie friend and I went our separate ways in adulthood, as often happens with school chums, but I never lost my fondness for the Magpies. I only followed them loosely for a number of years, but kept close enough track of them to know who was playing for the team, and so on. Then I fell in love with my English, totally mad about football, mister, and soon after acquired a lovely, new Geordie friend (hi Linda!). Thus the passion was rekindled. Then a certain homegrown boy joined the squad and I was a goner. Suddenly I paid as much attention to the TV listings as the mister did, and he learned for the first time that my tastes don’t just run to much older men, after all.

It was a very sad day indeed when Mr. Shearer hung up his boots for the last time. Yes, I enjoy the sport and will always be a Newcastle fan, but it just wasn’t the same without His Yumminess gracing the pitch. Nor was the team the same, but I’ll get to that in a minute. So, imagine my absolute elation when I heard that he had agreed to take over as Manager for the remainder of this season! Yes, of course, like all fans I was happy at his appointment for the obvious reasons. If I’m really honest, though, it’s mainly all about seeing His Manliness on my TV screen again. And in a suit now – be still my fluttering heart! Much as he made the pulse race in the team kit, the suit and tie really bring on a swoon. Which has the mister feeling all inadequate again, but he’ll get over it. Even he can’t question my tastes in this matter. Much as he’d like to. Poor lamb.

Sadly, though, I don’t know if even Alan Shearer can produce the miracle needed to prevent relegation. It’s not over by any means, but it’s not looking terribly encouraging, even for those of us who don’t give up on anything until the fat lady has sung her last note. I’ll always cheer for them, regardless of what league they’re in, and who’s standing on the sidelines as manager. But it will be a sad day indeed if this grand old team does slip down to a lower division.

By the way, I have an honest to goodness, authentic, Newcastle United shirt hanging in my closet. He who adores me brought it back for me when he went to England in 1996. Obviously he doesn’t feel terribly threatened, after all. Guess which name and number is on the back of said shirt. ♥

One final note, my pious stalker fan needn’t bother sending me yet another e-mail, telling me yet again that I’m heading for hell at mach speed. Yes, I admitted to lustful thoughts here, but tongue was firmly planted in cheek throughout the entire post. It’s called having a sense of humour, and even good Christians are allowed to have one. Besides which, if Alan Shearer walked through my front door, it would be utterly pointless to kick His Nibs out the back door. He’d just trot around to the front door, come back in, sit himself down, and proceed to talk serious football statistics with the Gorgeous One. At which point I’d excuse myself, go to the kitchen, don my frilly apron, and make tea. Statistics tend to make my eyes glaze over, regardless of who’s doing the talking. Feel better now, Your Holier Than Thou-ness?
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6 thoughts on “Howay the Lads

  1. You are a dark horse indeed. So.. Alan Shearer is it? Let me know if you ever want anything from the club shop. I have an acquaintance who has strong ties with NUFC.

  2. I had no idea who your guy was before I read this. Soccer-type football just isn't a big thing here, and especially English footie. You have a stalker-come-fan-come-self-righteous judge? How dare they presume to judge you when by that very act they condemn themselves?!? Tsk tsk!Happy almost May, dear Eleanor. Hope you're feeling your oats and soaking up sunshine about now. Well, not exactly NOW since it's the wee hours of the morning. ;-)Love ya!Diane

  3. As Newcastle is the closest I get to following a club (apart from Forest Green Rovers), it was a pleasant surprise when, in Crete, I met a Mauri guy who was a keen fan.We also liked cheese.Coincidences piled on coincidences eh?

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