Reading (Reserves) 5 - Birmingham (Reserves) 1

8:00 am.

I've got to write for 15 minutes so I thought I'd have a go at sports writing. I might struggle to muster enough passion because I'm not ambivalent about football, I actively hate it. Or so I thought..

Aldershot Recreation Ground is a spectactularly bleak location and, I fancy, at its grimmest on a arsingly freezing Tuesday evening with a biting wind and the chip facilities on both snack bars undergoing crucial maintenance. Why are the Reading boys not playing on the lovely Madejski turf in their home town. I don't know and nor did the kids.
Kid 1:"Why aren't they playing in Reading?"
Me: "I don't know"
Kid 2:"Why aren't they playing in Reading?"
Me: "I don't know"
Kid 3:"Why aren't they playing in Reading?"
Me: "HEY LISTEN UP EVERYBODY! I'VE GOT SOMETHING TO SAY. I DO NOT KNOW WHY THEY ARE NOT PLAYING IN READING"

But Aldershot Rec is in some ways better than the Madejski. First,you can practically park on the pitch. Second,you can sit where you like because hardly anyone else is there. Third, it costs buttons to get in. The two luminous coated dudes guarding the door seemed kind of amazed that I wanted to pay cash money. Everyone else was getting in by waving something at them. The blerks looked at me and my 2 10-year-olds and the boy from over the road and said "About £3 or something I think". £3 to send 3 kids into a frenzy of excitement. Bargain!

Damn, my report falls short of truly great sports writing, should have mentioned football by now.

I did watch the match, something I've never done before in my life. The first goal was good, even though it was Birmingham's. As far as I could tell it rolled in really slowly while everyone was poncing about up the other end. I think I was the only one that noticed. But Reading now had everything to play for. They got 5 goals and I found myself accidentally letting out a little coo of delight every time. To my own astonishment , my toes curled at one point when it looked like they were about to get another one but didn't. Who AM I? I just don't know any more.

There were loads of things to look at not just excellent football (I presume it was excellent but can't really tell).I got really into spotting players that were tall or short or young or old.There was this kid on the Birmingham team trying to pull everyone over. There were people from the substitutes bench running up and down the sidelines and doing really comical warm-up routines, skipping with their knees much too high then suddenly stopping and sticking their arses out. We could hear the ref saying "Leave it now, ten". Then a Reading player got whacked on the head and had to be carried past us on a stretcher. No blood as such, but everyone clapped.

The two boys enjoyed it immensely and every time Reading scored they ran to the end of the row and a did a celebratory squat jump in the aisle. They upset me and Ali a bit with their deprecating remarks about Birmingham but they assured me this was perfectly OK as Birmingham was the enemy and inherently rubbish. For some reason I don't really understand, Ali enjoyed it a lot too. But then, she is my daughter, and like her sainted mother, even if she can't stand football, she does so love a novelty.