When I found out I was soon to be a dad, once the fear of the unknown had passed I began to set my sights on the possibilities.

For me the first possibility was please be a boy!! After the 20 week scan that was a box ticked. Now I could really let my mind wonder with all the things my son could grow up to be.

So, being English, pretty handy with a football, the same wishful thinker that most dad’s are who fall into this category…My son will obviously be the best footballer ever to lace up a pair of boots!

Max is now at the age where he is gaining a good understanding of likes and dislikes. So what better time than now to introduce him to a sport which I love?

With this in mind, the weekend was approaching so yesterday I thought to myself that I would take max to the local park to watch a game. It would be perfect! We would arrive on the touchline and he would be immediately engrossed with the beautiful game. I would even hold him high in the air if a goal was scored and we would be celebrating with all the passion that any Englishman would have after winning the World Cup at Wembley!

This did not happen. Not even close.

We got to the park and the first game we approached was a team of under 10’s in the age category. Let’s warm him up with this. Max did show an interest at first but soon became grumpy. At the time I put this down to the standard of quality we were watching, neither team were Barcelona. So I agreed with Max and we changed fields to watch the under 15’s. Approaching the pitch I was already becoming absorbed with the game, a much better sceptical. I park the buggy up and let Max out to stretch his legs. From that moment on the football was a distant memory! All max wanted to do was walk the other way and failing that the meltdown soon followed.

Oh well, maybe I’ll have better luck next week.

Remember my blog about manipulation? Well this is how the football turned out…




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