The Roland Harris Column

21st of September, 2000

On taking Mrs Roland to the football

I know it will shock some of you readers but I have a girlfriend.

Better half and all that, for the past three months she has been keeping me on the straight and narrow. Friends say I have lost some of my famed arrogance and that I am significantly less annoying than I used to be.

Wimen eh? Civilise us fellas don't they? Make us think about more than what we would want to think about. So what's the problem. The problem is that a seat next to me for the Southampton game has come up. Mrs Roland knows about it, she might be expecting to sit in it.

Not that I have a problem with women at football, indeed my Mum introduced me to all things Bantam and on occasion I have been known to support City's Ladies just as I do the men. No the problem is that I don't want Mrs Roland to see me mid-game

I scream, I shout, I swear. She would be ready for this having caught me at the end of Euro2000 but what I think she would not be expecting is that I don't do it because I like the sound of my own voice, although frequently where I sit in the Lee Mills vanquishing Ciba Stand it is often the only sense to be heard, it is that I do these things because I care.

I care so much its stupid. As detailed previously I nearly got the sack for using a rude word to the boss after our 6-0 at Man U. When we concede I feel physically ill, when we score I go ape and when it'd over I'm drained.

Once Mrs Roland sees this she will smell a rat. Why am I not like this all the time? Why to a shrug my shoulders at the idea of doing this or that, going here or there, then secretly sneak off on a Saturday and become a wild man as passionate as they come? Will she expect me to be like that all the time? Could I be?

Then again how can I rob her of the joy of soccer? If football is so good why not share it with nearest and dearest. Because I don't want to that's why. I don't want to set an example at VP that I could not live up to anywhere else. If she thinks I can get that bothered about men kicking a ball she'll start to think I can about MFI furniture, and that will not do.

Ticket for me Mam I think, and I'll drag myself to whatever club of pub Mrs Roland wants to go to after we stuff the Saints with a shrug and a knowing smile.

Index of column & Biography | Mail