By Jo Cartwright
I have been toying with the idea of writing something since Jon and Andy mooted the idea to Jon’s better half Rachel, and me, over dinner a few weeks ago. Andy’s idea was a ‘football widow’ piece where we could get off our chests the complaints of days lost to the incessant buzz of messages between the boys about images on the website or new signings which required immediate commentary.
I’m already bored, so I decided to write about something else.
Since meeting Andy 3 years ago I have built a unique relationship with Norwich City FC; for me I have very little interest – I can’t care about football.
A few times in my life I have really tried for various reasons, one being Andy and his declaration on our first date that there were 3 things he wouldn’t compromise on - one of them was football.
I’ll leave the other 2 to your imagination, but I will say that he did compromise. It turns out that affection for football/a particular team can’t be forced.
This morning, however, I wrote all of the Norwich home games into my Filofax (yep, I am aware it’s 2016 and I’m not 12 or 65). I follow 5 Norwich City related twitter accounts and I can tell you exactly where I was when Norwich were relegated (A&E, at the N&N, by myself because my husband was at the football).
I have also proudly put the match ball on the plinth on behalf of the East Anglian Air Ambulance, and started the first ‘On the Ball City’ of the home game against Arsenal last season, stood/sat through 4 games at Carrow Road, and travelled to London twice to witness Norwich not win twice against 2 different London based teams.
I am also patently aware by Andy’s anxious excitement that today is the first home game of the season. Either that or he really needs a wee.
I may not be able to care about the game, or really how Norwich perform week to week, but being married to a season ticket holding football commentator brings with it a relationship with the game and the club, whether I like it or not. I can’t really complain about it, I was informed that it was not up for discussion when we met, before I knew what Andy’s surname was, or that his favourite food was brown.
So my point here is simple. Beside many a Norwich fan will be a long-suffering partner, parent, sibling or friend who, despite not caring at all about the game regardless of their best efforts, will this evening be tentatively checking twitter,