August in this part of the world (the UK) means only two things – the sun is shining and the football season is beginning. The sun and football also happen to be two of my favourite things on earth, so it’s good times all around at present.
The ninth of December 2001 is the exact date I fell in love with the English Premier League and football in general. I had to look up that date, but all I hazily remember is it was the first week of summer holidays, Brisbane was about 38 degrees with 100 percent humidity and I had leftover Chinese takeaway while watching Arsenal versus Aston Villa at Highbury.
The process of watching began the night before, when I arose at 1am to press record on the VHS machine, double-checking it was on the correct TV station before heading back to bed (to young people who have no idea what the previous sentence meant, no the TV was not in black and white).
The following day I awoke at the crack of noon, and my couch groove which I had been making steady progress on that week was still going strong.
Pretty much the only football exposure I’d had up until that point was playing under 6s and 7s for the West Pymble Waratahs (the highlight of those seasons definitely being when we got McDonalds after the last game – probably why my fledgling career never took off), FIFA’s ’97 and 2001 on Playstation, the Brisbane Strikers winning the NSL grand final in 1997 and the Socceroos losing to Iran in 1997 and Uruguay in 2001.
After that 2001 loss to Uruguay I made a conscious decision to start following the EPL, and with my surname being Aston I consulted a highly complex, NASA approved algorithm for choosing a team, finally settling on Aston Villa.
Back to the game, and after 21 minutes there was already an intriguing subplot, ex-Arsenal legend Paul Merson, now playing for Villa, had scored the opening goal against them. From then on the game just got better and better, more exciting with every pass and after being 2-0 up at half-time, Villa, much like my chat with the ladies, started crumbling and it was now 2-2.
The crowd was immense (I’m sure at least half the reason people get in to the Premier League is just how damn exciting the crowds are), and set against the majestic backdrop of the brilliant old Highbury ground, the equally as brilliant Thierry Henry scored a late winner in front of the Clock End.
The sick feeling in my stomach at the end of the game confirmed that I was now hooked on Aston Villa, the English Premier League and all things football (although in retrospect the sick feeling could also have been Chinese takeaway-related).
In the intervening 16 years I have played for many seasons, agonised weekly over fantasy football transfers, officially met only three other Aston Villa fans in the whole of Brisbane (cheers Marty, Phil and Mark), woken up and stayed up until ungodly hours to tape and watch games and just been obsessed with football in general.
Moving to the UK three years ago was definitely an amazing way to fulfil even more of that obsession.
Villa begin their second consecutive season in the Championship this week after their ridiculous, ghastly and in the end downright comical relegation two seasons ago.
Having endured many ups (the Martin O’Neill era) and an absurd amount of downs (Peter Enckelman, Lambert and Sherwood, an absolute horror show of a home 0-1 loss to Southampton in October 2002), I can’t wait to see what the new season brings, John Terry and all.
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