Women's football
(*note written after watching the ISAC meet in Brent last summer)
I’ve been watching men’s football ever since I started kicking a ball and I started covering football in 1997 as a gangly reporter for The Freeman.
Then, I’d drag myself to the Cebu City Sports Center, catch the first game until the last every Sunday. (That was before I met red horse and got insomnia) For me, it was a bliss.
Now, we have women’s football.
For a fan like me, women’s football is like having your cake and eating it too, plus a nice plate of French fries,a dish of calamares, a plate of grilled pork chop and a round of beer (you get the drift?)
I mean, who wouldn’t want to see girls chase a ball around?
So here’s my take on the battle of the sexes, at least limited on the football field shall we?
Women listen.
Observe the normal men’s game, and you’d see, nay, hear the coach bellowing instructions from the sidelines, guys on the field continue to do their mistake.
Coach, says to take it easy. Guy on the field, looks at the coach, then proceeds to pummel a guy.
With women? It’s different. Coach gives instruction, they look, (and here is where the difference lay) they listen and follow the instruction. Go wide, they go wide, and when they miss, they’d face the coach, and say, (audible to all) “I’m sorry!” As if they’re talking to mom after breaking an expensive China. All the while, the coach thinks, don’t bother apologizing go chase that ball!
Women ask
See the parched women dying of thirst on the field? They’d keep on asking the coach or anybody, “Can I have a bottle of water?” They do that while doing their jobs, checking opponents and clearing balls.
The men? Heck, they’d proceed to the sidelines, grab a bottle with out any care if their assigned striker is streaking down the field to score. They want a drink, and a drink they will have.
Women play fair
Women also play fair. They don’t go for cheapshots or sneaky elbows that is normal of a men’s game. They play for the ball and go for the ball, the rare instances that they don’t are but exceptions, not the rule.The men on the other hand, would do everything to take you down. An elbow, a knee and a foot always finds its way when the ref is not looking.
I once played the game, and I’ve been pulled everywhere, and I’m not talking about jerseys, and I’ve hit everywhere, and I’m not talking about shin guards.
Let’s just say, a paternity suit, may not bother me at all.
But women, ahh the lovely girls. They don’t go for cheapshots, no sneaky tackles that surprises you, they simply give you what you deserve. (Which makes you kind of hope they are as open in other matters)
The refs also have it easy with women. The difficulties they have in the women’s game, is with the coaches (Ironically, exclusively of the male kind)
Ref blows his whistle, the girls stop playing, looks at the ref to know which side the foul is called and goes on.
For the men, it’s a totally different thing. Every call is questioned. Guy goes down after getting hit and the ref blows his whistle. Offender complains, “Are you blind ref? He’s acting, I didn’t hit him!” While the victim cringes in pain and holds his broken shin.
“Stupid ref! I didn’t tackle him! He fell on his own accord!” While victim finds it difficult to answer the paramedics’ queries about his name, current date and day. “You idiot ref! That’s not a foul!” While guy tries to find his detached limb.
“I was playing for the ball, hitting his knee was an accident!” Guilty guy says after tackling a striker, who had passed the ball on a minute earlier, from behind.
But the girls? Heck, for the most disputable of all calls, all they’d give you is a raised eyebrow. (Which is so effective on dates but rendered useless on the football field)
You want proof?
Show me the last female player ever carded for bad mouthing a referee and I’ll show you a guy who’s masquerading as a female player.
I’m a guy who’s in love with women and football. Watching women’s football, I feel like I’m J lo who’s just been handed the secret to marriage success, or I feel like a politician, who just got the keys to the national bank.
Women’s football is having my cake, nay, your cake, and eating it too.
So, don’t wonder if I show up 30 minutes before kick off.
I love women…er…football.
I’ve been watching men’s football ever since I started kicking a ball and I started covering football in 1997 as a gangly reporter for The Freeman.
Then, I’d drag myself to the Cebu City Sports Center, catch the first game until the last every Sunday. (That was before I met red horse and got insomnia) For me, it was a bliss.
Now, we have women’s football.
For a fan like me, women’s football is like having your cake and eating it too, plus a nice plate of French fries,a dish of calamares, a plate of grilled pork chop and a round of beer (you get the drift?)
I mean, who wouldn’t want to see girls chase a ball around?
So here’s my take on the battle of the sexes, at least limited on the football field shall we?
Women listen.
Observe the normal men’s game, and you’d see, nay, hear the coach bellowing instructions from the sidelines, guys on the field continue to do their mistake.
Coach, says to take it easy. Guy on the field, looks at the coach, then proceeds to pummel a guy.
With women? It’s different. Coach gives instruction, they look, (and here is where the difference lay) they listen and follow the instruction. Go wide, they go wide, and when they miss, they’d face the coach, and say, (audible to all) “I’m sorry!” As if they’re talking to mom after breaking an expensive China. All the while, the coach thinks, don’t bother apologizing go chase that ball!
Women ask
See the parched women dying of thirst on the field? They’d keep on asking the coach or anybody, “Can I have a bottle of water?” They do that while doing their jobs, checking opponents and clearing balls.
The men? Heck, they’d proceed to the sidelines, grab a bottle with out any care if their assigned striker is streaking down the field to score. They want a drink, and a drink they will have.
Women play fair
Women also play fair. They don’t go for cheapshots or sneaky elbows that is normal of a men’s game. They play for the ball and go for the ball, the rare instances that they don’t are but exceptions, not the rule.The men on the other hand, would do everything to take you down. An elbow, a knee and a foot always finds its way when the ref is not looking.
I once played the game, and I’ve been pulled everywhere, and I’m not talking about jerseys, and I’ve hit everywhere, and I’m not talking about shin guards.
Let’s just say, a paternity suit, may not bother me at all.
But women, ahh the lovely girls. They don’t go for cheapshots, no sneaky tackles that surprises you, they simply give you what you deserve. (Which makes you kind of hope they are as open in other matters)
The refs also have it easy with women. The difficulties they have in the women’s game, is with the coaches (Ironically, exclusively of the male kind)
Ref blows his whistle, the girls stop playing, looks at the ref to know which side the foul is called and goes on.
For the men, it’s a totally different thing. Every call is questioned. Guy goes down after getting hit and the ref blows his whistle. Offender complains, “Are you blind ref? He’s acting, I didn’t hit him!” While the victim cringes in pain and holds his broken shin.
“Stupid ref! I didn’t tackle him! He fell on his own accord!” While victim finds it difficult to answer the paramedics’ queries about his name, current date and day. “You idiot ref! That’s not a foul!” While guy tries to find his detached limb.
“I was playing for the ball, hitting his knee was an accident!” Guilty guy says after tackling a striker, who had passed the ball on a minute earlier, from behind.
But the girls? Heck, for the most disputable of all calls, all they’d give you is a raised eyebrow. (Which is so effective on dates but rendered useless on the football field)
You want proof?
Show me the last female player ever carded for bad mouthing a referee and I’ll show you a guy who’s masquerading as a female player.
I’m a guy who’s in love with women and football. Watching women’s football, I feel like I’m J lo who’s just been handed the secret to marriage success, or I feel like a politician, who just got the keys to the national bank.
Women’s football is having my cake, nay, your cake, and eating it too.
So, don’t wonder if I show up 30 minutes before kick off.
I love women…er…football.
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