Nairobi News

They say that buried within every man is a youthful spirit, and football – that exhilarating sport – can stir up a competitive spirit that baffles many women. World Cup season, in particular, unveils a different side of men, one that sometimes requires a decoder.

During these football festivities, the quiet, introverted chap down the street suddenly transforms into an extroverted dynamo. They spill onto the digital playground, where social media becomes a battlefield of cheers and jeers, a place where die-hard fans showcase their euphoria and hurl down the gauntlet against rival teams.

Friendships have been tested, and animosities have been born in the heat of football’s fire. Some folks embark on epic odysseys to support their beloved teams, a pilgrimage of passion. The English Premier League, in particular, seems to draw out a fervor unmatched by any other.

They’ll go to extraordinary lengths to ensure the world knows about their unwavering allegiance. But, and here’s the kicker, when it comes to supporting their own national team, Harambe Stars, the vibe’s not quite the same.

You see, they might not watch Harambe Stars with the same level of fanaticism, but their unwavering support deserves a salute. Some might even skip a meal to catch a game, now that’s commitment.

Picture this: a gang of lads squeezed into a tiny room, shouting their hearts out as they cheer on their favorite team. It’s a scene that plays out time and again, especially in pubs and video joints filled to the brim with fans who are more than willing to part with their hard-earned cash to catch the match live.

The devotion is so intense that some men have found themselves in heated squabbles over teams that probably couldn’t spot them in a police lineup. But it’s all part of the game.

So, what’s the collateral damage here? Well, it’s not uncommon for women to endure spells of solitude during football seasons as their significant others are fully absorbed in the beautiful game.

Eunice Adhiambo sums it up, “I don’t get quality time with my husband during the Premier League or World Cup. He’s always showing up late when his team’s playing. It’s making me despise football.”

It doesn’t stop there. Families wave farewell to their beloved TV shows as the men hijack the remote, unwilling to relinquish control. They’re off to the stadium, right in their living rooms, celebrating every goal like it’s the key to world peace.

And then there are the bets, some so colossal that it’s a wonder people don’t end up playing football themselves to pay off their debts. When their teams lose, it’s like the end of the world, as if their very soul is on the line.

But the irony of it all is that, despite the jubilation, after all the hoopla and the heartbreak, many have little more than a fading voice and frayed nerves to show for their devotion. Yet they’ll continue analyzing every play with a surgeon’s precision and arguing over last night’s game like it’s a matter of life and death.

It’s just a game, but one they’ll love, cherish, and even lose sleep over. After all, it’s the beautiful game, and love is blind, even if it’s wearing a referee’s jersey.