Will Jose change the way I choose to live?

Double Vision with Charlie Adley

Loathe to admit it but recently I’ve been enduring a period of emotional turmoil over matters of football. Well aware of how silly it sounds for a grown man to declare existential angst concerning his footie team, my confusion continues.

Usually my excuse for watching and following Chelsea FC is that the Beautiful Game provides a trivial and wonderful distraction from the mighty and wearying issues of everyday life. For a few hours each week, my mind can switch off and stare at super-rich young men kicking a ball around a field.

For many of us danglers, football and other sport allows a rare and precious chance to explore and explode into our emotional reserves, in a way that’s just not deemed acceptable in a supermarket.

During a game, men can roar, scream, cheer and cry. We can show mean-spirited anger and pure joy, without raising a critical eyebrow from strangers.

Trouble is, where in the past the good ship Adley has enjoyed soccer sanctuary in the familiar old harbour of ‘Benign Distraction’, this season my allegiance to the club I support has raised a deep and most unwelcome question: what kind of man am I?

Regular colyoomistas know well by now that this is not the first time I’ve wondered at my own nature. I’ve not managed to live for over half a century without trying to improve myself. Thankfully I’m not so fantastically shallow that football is the first subject to arouse such doubts

But it is the first time that my favourite sporting distraction has become a source of profound consternation.

Do I still love watching football? Yes.

Do I still and will I always be a Chelsea fan? Yes.

Do I still find it odd that I need and enjoy such a simplistically tribal element in my life? Yes.

Clear, simple and unequivocal standpoints all. So what’s the problem? After all, my team have won the Premier League. Even better, Mr Mourinho was considerate enough to sort out the title a few weeks back.

If all has gone according to plan, I’ll be on a Balearic island when you read this, as the Snapper and I enjoy out first proper holiday for three years. When planning the trip months ago, a childish slightly sad part of my brain was aware that the season would not yet be over, and that we might need to go and find a local bar that showed Sky Sports.

Although we’re away from all the resorts, I felt no fear that Majorca might fail to supply us with a loud crowd of English abroad, watching the footie in the blazing sun.

Yet as I said, it’s not necessary, as Chelsea became Premier League champions three weeks ago.

To read Charlie’s full column, please see this week’s Galway City Tribune.