A Volley Dream

Many successful athletes have reached the upper echelon of success by starting out with a simple dream. So with this in mind I’ve decided to share one of my dreams via this blogpost:

I dream of a day when athletes who participate in minority sports in the UK can focus on honing their skills and not raising money to pay for referees, training venues and kit.

I absolutely love playing volleyball., Yet it never fails to irk me when I have to add another line on my budget sheet entitled ‘volleyball’: registration fees, club subs, transportation to away games, post match hospitality – when I add up how much I spend on volleyball at the end of each season I’m always amazed that despite the financial outlay, myself and my teammates continue to invest our time and money in order to play this sport at an elite level.

I’m not exactly sure what it will take for the sport to become popular enough to fund itself but I’m starting with the basics – a dream.

Half-Time

Last week when my colleague asked me if I wanted his ticket for the Chelsea v Newcastle Carling Cup the answer was a no-brainer. I’ve only attended the odd match but I absolutely love the atmosphere in the stadium and I genuinely enjoy seeing the football played live as opposed to on a flat screen.

The one detail that I missed due to my excitement was that the seat would not be the usual seat....

On match day I headed down to the stadium looking forward to seeing a few familiar faces and enjoying my first match of the season but as I climbed higher and higher up in the stands the ‘small detail’ regarding the seat came back to me. My excitement almost immediately turned to dread.

Despite being a sports lover, it has taken me 9 years to muster up the courage to go to a Premier League football match – quite simply because I know that not all football fans are created equally. The same atmosphere that I love can also be incredibly intimidating. However, I was inside and figured I’d face my fear and make the most of it.

After locating my seat my dread evolved from discomfort into an acute awareness of my surroundings. I was the only chick in that section – as a matter of fact I was probably the only black chick on her own in the entire stadium’ (let alone the section or the stand). Everyone around was emotionally invested in the game but they just sounded angry. I was sitting next to a fat so-and-so who insisted on calling the referee a fat so-and-so. Every time Anelka, Essien, Sturridge or Kakuta went to touch the ball I was silently praying that didn’t stuff it up in case any of the fans wanted to make their jeers a little more colourful. It is absolutely laughable that I felt that way – but I did.

After holding my breath for most of the first half, I grabbed my bag at the buzzer and left the stadium feeling nothing but relief upon exiting.

The further I got away from the stadium, the calmer I became and my mind reflected back to Paul Canoville’s autobiography ‘Black and Blue’. That’s when the penny dropped and his contribution to football became tangible – personal even.

My experience is in no way comparable to the experiences of Paul Canoville and other pioneers – but it provided me with a snapshot of the passion, conviction and self belief that was required for them to play football during the 70s and 80s.

This blogpost is a special thank you to Tony Whelan, Brendan Batson, Howard Gayle and Paul Canoville for not walking out at half time.