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Going to the World
JUNE 14, 2010
I went to the World Cup in 1966. I was 14 and it was no big deal, at least, not in todayís terms. A friend and I sent away for tickets for three games at Evertonís Goodison Park. They arrived in the post and we were all set.
Getting there was easy too. A short walk to the local station in the Southport suburb of Birkdale, and then a 25 minute train journey.
As a Scot living in England, and in those pre-digital
Itís probably redundant to say that when sports news transfers from back page to front page, things are not good. Well, thereís been a bellyful of that kind of caper over the past month or so and it makes any sports fan question their commitment, and indeed, the reasons why sport is important to them.
While most sports fans are reasonably measured in their addiction, there are those, of course, for whom sport is an unhealthy obsession: children called after complete football teams,