Football 1 Corinthians 13

June 2006

If I speak in the tongues of managers and referees but have not love I am only a foul –mouthed footballer. 
If I have the gift of penalty kicks and can fathom the offside rule and ref’s decisions and if I have a belief that can score goals but have not love, I’m on the bench. 
If I give all my transfer fee to the poor and play for nothing but have not love, I gain nothing.

Love waits to be called up to play for and remembers and thinks about those who helped along the way. 
(Especially all those doctors and physios who help with broken metatarsals.)

Love does not envy when a mere boy is picked for the World Cup or shout out ‘I’m the best’.

Love does not swear at the ref or hog the ball during play.
Love does not lash out when felled by Argentinean players or keep a log of other players’ bad passes or missed chances.

Love does not delight in fouls but rejoices with clever ball skills.

Love always defends, always believes, always hopes to win, always keeps going to the whistle.

Love never runs out of energy.

But where there are pundits they will cease, where there is tactical gobbledegook it will stop; 
where there is encyclopaedic knowledge, it will be forgotten.

For we know some teams who will get through the group stages and we guess a few more, but when play the lesser teams bow out.

When I was a child, I talked like a child, thought and had tantrums like a child.
When I grew up I put those tantrums away.

Now on TV I see the players out of focus, then I will be at the game.

Now I know my half, then I shall know all the games, even as I am well known.

Only three things remain football, football, football.

But the greatest of these is love