TABLE FOOTBALL

"Oi ref, you sure it was an 'andball?"

I played table-football today. I am terrible at table-football. There must be a knack, a technique that's more elevated than spin it and hope for the best. It's a game of quick reflexes and wrist-flicking agility that has outfoxed me. Time and time again, the ball zipped past my rows of players, streaking through them like a yellow bullet and rattling into the goal.

I really wanted it to be a game of strategy. After all, real football is, isn't it? Alright, I was terrible at that too if I remember rightly, but at least I understand that it has some thought involved, some planning, some tactics. The radio pundits talk about strategy all the time. So-and-so's got a great 'footballing brain' they say, good anticipation, playing the offside trap well, long balls, short balls, passing to feet, 3-5-2, ruthless efficiency, and the other million cliches you've heard before.

Well there's none of that in table-football. You can switch off your footballing brain. Long balls will not be required, no strategy, no short passes to feet lads, none of that if you want to jouer au babyfoot. Nope. Spin your men in their somersaulting rows, push them in, pull them out until your body jolts with the motion, and somehow, in a way that makes it look planned and cool, one of them will accidentally score.

"I like games where you have to think!" I protested as the small crowd of laughing spectators looked on. I realised how nerdy that made me sound as soon as I'd said it, but there's not a lot I can do about the truth. I fished the ball from the goal and my ever-gracious team-mate and I carried on with the humiliation.