I went to a football match the other day. I know, this was very out of character.  However, I am married to a football-mad Englishman, and I had finally run out of excuses – so off I went to see the championship semi final, the glamorous QPR vs Wigan.  H is your average English football fan: he has supported his west London team since he was a kid, will never give up on them even though they lose a lot more than they win, and the only time I have ever seen him with anything resembling tears is when his team got promoted to the premier league.  He denies this of course, but I saw the quick wipe of the eyes!

I was a little apprehensive about the going to the match – in my mind all I could picture was hooligans being rowdy, spilling beer on my shoes and generally wandering about without their shirts on.  But as I approached the stadium, how pleasantly surprised I was! It was more of a carnival atmosphere than I had imagined: families all dressed up in their football kit, kids perched on their dads’ shoulders waving their flags, the crowd breaking out in merry football singing (keeping their shirts on!) and playfully throwing jibes about the opposing team.  A tipsy lady asked if I wanted my face painted blue, another random guy wearing a blue cowboy hat high-fived us and announced that QPR was going to Wembley (for the play-off final the following week).  The whole thing reminded me of a fancy fair in Mauritius. As we filed into the stadium to our seats the excitement was palpable, and I found myself joining in the chanting and Mexican waving.  Thankfully, football songs are not exactly complicated: “QPR till I die” – repeat three times, and “We are QPR, la la laa” are clear favourites.  Pointing to the opposing fans and shouting “Who are you!” is another regular occurrence, quickly mastered as you can guess.

The match was actually pretty exciting even to the uninitiated. The people-watching was even better. So this is where the British show their passion! No stiff upper lip or politeness here: singing, dancing, creative swearing, hugging strangers – I have never seen anything like it. The guy in front of me who looked and dressed like a timid accountant furiously swore at every single missed pass , while the old man behind me (with  bright blue mohican hair) practically fainted when QPR scored and had to be brought round with a sip of beer. I started to understand a little bit more what it meant to be an actual football fan in this country – not the Manchester vs Liverpool version we see in Mauritius, but actually following a team from your childhood, whether it wins trophies or not, whether you can afford the price of the season ticket or not, and through thick and thin. A bit like marriage really!

It made me think about the state of football here in Mauritius, which a real shame is given we seem to be a football-loving nation.  Last time I checked we were 185^th in the world FIFA rankings, just behind the Faroe Islands which has a population of about 40 000 people.  How did we become so bad??  Back in the 1970s football games drew thousands. Wouldn’t it be great if we developed a football culture again, where going to watch the football could become a family day out? I do realise we had get rid of the shackles of our football’s communal past; I certainly don’t want to see Hindu Cadets or Muslim Scouts in their old format.  But surely something can be done at grassroots level, maybe by introducing proper inter-college football competitions,  even at primary school level? It would kill two birds with one stone, by introducing kids to team sports at a competitive level and encouraging wider participation. Developing a football culture will take time, but with the right plan and proper resources it can happen. One can live in hope!