The Thrill of the FA Cup

Written by Daz

Cup Final day, what a marvelous occasion! A day when collectively, men all over the land hog the television set for hours whilst shouting demands for re-fills of their drained beer mugs to any wives/girlfriends/children/passers-by in earshot. It is even a Royal occasion with some in-bred member of the Royal Family turning up and pretending to care when shaking some random footballers’ hand whom on any other occasion they would have had sent to the Tower if they had dared to speak to them.

Cup Final day is more than just a game, it’s a tradition handed down from Father to Son or Uncle to Nephew or sometimes as was my case, Future Step-Mother to Unruly Surley Child. Every household has it’s own preparations and rituals, In my home, the television would go on in the morning and we would watch the whole thing from start to finish much to my football hating Father’s despair; the fans arriving, the teams arriving on their coaches (I always felt that one year they should have changed this, like maybe they could have all turned up on scooters or in Mini’s like in the Italian Job) and laughing at the team that had made the tragic fashion blunder on the very expensive suit and tragic tie combination (or in the case of Liverpool FC in 1996, when they turned up dressed as Boyzone).

Then the sheer wonder of the players walking around on the pitch and absorbing the atmosphere. Stirring stuff!

If you have ever been lucky enough to attend an FA Cup Final in person (I have, watching my beloved Arsenal) then you know that it is a match like almost no other, steeped in history and somehow almost a serene coming together of football tribes and cultures, a bit like a Cocoa Cola advert where everyone joins hands but you don’t contract diabetes by overindulging.

Then the anthem – “Abide With Me”, a soaring hymn to which nobody actually knows the words to the verses which sort of get mumbled until the chorus bit which gets shouted out. Of course, the words are normally printed in the program but it’s a bit much to expect excited football supporters to be able to read anything on Cup Final day. It’s lucky if they remember how to keep hold of their bodily functions.

So to this year and a strange match-up, Cardiff vs. Portsmouth. Cardiff City are one of those teams who insist on making everything about their Nationality instead of their club, even if Cardiff were playing in the Welsh Boyo Cup against an equally Welsh team their supporters would insist on shouting “We are more Welsh than you!” across the terraces like this was actually a good thing. Then you have Portsmouth, who are made up of an odd collection of players that no other Premier League teams seem to want with a sprinkling of African players that ‘Arry Redknapp picked up at a Nigerian Boot Sale. Still, strangely, it all sort of works. Who will triumph? It is the lap of the FA Cup gods but I feel he may smile on the Men from Fratton Park, not least because I can imagine that ‘Arry has already promised to make it worth his while if his team gets some divine help.

Good luck to both and may the best team win – i.e. Portsmouth.