My Ball, My Game

How I built my own football world as a girl in the 1980s — and what I discovered later

“My mates and I met at 3pm every Saturday. It soon fizzled out though, maybe because of my slight megalomania: captain, player-manager, all-controlling football monster.

Nah, they just weren’t as obsessed as me.”

This was me, aged 10, as described in the introduction to my book.

I fell in love with football when I was about 8 or 9. My dad would be watching matches or highlights, shouting at the TV.

I sat and watched. And listened. And took it all in.

Before I knew it, I was a football fan. I was in love with the beautiful game.

This was the 1980s and so I was the only girl in the world who loved football. Or so I assumed.

I grew up in Cornwall, the far south west of England, a few miles from the most southerly point. Basically, the backend of nowhere so there was every chance I was, in fact, the only girl who loved football.

I started off as the only one in our school who loved it - that is for sure. I managed to convince the boys I was good enough to join in with the playground matches. I had to prove myself, of course.

But I was good, so I was soon accepted - never to be questioned again.

Games extended to after school and weekends. Soon, my every waking moment was thinking about when I could next get the ball at my feet.

10-year-old me

As I mentioned at the start, I was a bit of a football control freak. So obviously, lore of the playground - I needed my own ball.

My ball, my game.

“It’s my 10th birthday. I’m excited about my disco party later, but first, presents. I rip off the coloured wrapping, wide-eyed and big-smiled, as I realise what this one is: my very first proper football.

“The white globe gleams - it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever touched.

“I rip open the next present and can’t believe my newly 10-year-old eyes. A shiny pair of black football boots stare back at me; their two magical white stripes and smattering of studs symbolise I’m a footballer (two stripes rather than three because we couldn’t afford Adidas).”

I can still remember the feeling of pride as I stanked round the corner to the park in them for the first time.

Now I get to decide when and where games take place. My ball brings all the boys to the park.

It also brought a couple of my girl friends, keen to have a go and join in the fun.

I loved being able to drum up a game of football whenever I wanted. Because I was obsessed with playing.

The park was just behind my childhood home - literally a 90 second walk. At one end, the trees were our goalposts; at the other, jumpers or bikes. A small Girl Guide hut provided a backstop.

I wonder how many hours of my life were spent on that patch of grass? It was a lot.

Endless summers, playing, resting, playing again, watching an older boy do 100 keepy uppies as we all stared in admiration [and once getting the ball full in the face from point blank range].

I made my friend take photos of me posing (big head!)

Players came and went, games continued; only breaking for meals and then back out again as quickly as we could bolt the food down.

Outside of our grassy “manor” and the school playground, there was no football for girls in the far end of Cornwall in the 1980s (or the ‘90s for that matter). Whilst my male friends played their club matches on Saturday afternoon, I was left bereft of football.

Until I decided to gather my girl friends together to form a small “team”. Girls United was born out of frustration but became a place where five of us (I had to dig around to find five players but we did it) met once a week to practice.

As I said at the top, I was probably a bit much. I didn’t just want to kick around, I wanted to get better. So I planned out little patterns of passing and ways we could improve. I know I was bossy. Only with hindsight do I realise this is why it didn’t last too long. Except for one friend who was as keen as me and we met up for many weeks.

It’s only as I type this that I realise there may have been a mini coach in me, even then. [A wave of sadness and regret has just passed through me - it wasn’t until my son was a similar age that I got to have a go at coaching, 35 years later. ]

It wasn’t just playing football that I loved.

I collected stickers, had posters on my wall (Bryan Robson, Paul Ince, Norman Whiteside… I’m a Manchester United fan like my dad), spent hours in the school library researching the World Cup and creating my own mini booklet on the subject (football obsessive and nerd - that still sums me up).

The 1986 Mexico World Cup both cemented my love and broke my heart. Two of my friends and I spent hours in one of their parents’ lofts playing out that World Cup with Subbuteo. I still have some of the scores written out.

A couple of years later I fell in love with Marco van Basten and the Netherlands’ beautiful football. Headers and volleys became my favourite game and I was always MvB.

But it wasn’t until I started researching She Can Kick It that I discovered I had female role models - I just couldn’t see them.

In 1984, when football was first taking hold of me, England women’s team were in the final of the first UEFA Euros. In 1985, when the megalomania phase was beginning, the same team won the Mundialito, little World Cup. Undoubtedly, their captain, Carol Thomas, would have been my hero, her poster splashed on my wall.

Carol Thomas (Credit. Carol Thomas via National Football Museum).

It makes me sad, it makes me angry, to think I never had that.

But as Carol Thomas told me when I was researching the book:

“Never underestimate the contribution you made, albeit small. The fact you played with your male peers down the local park in 1984, pre the FA takeover of the game, will have opened their minds to the fact women/girls can play football and that some can be pretty good at it. That will have made it just that little bit easier for those that followed. Indeed, did any of the daughters of those male peers go on to play football? Go on to be football referees, administrators, etc, etc?”.

TBH, Carol is my hero now.

Buy me a cup of tea: https://ko-fi.com/claremc

Buy my book: https://www.amazon.co.uk/She-Can-Kick-Football-Beautiful/dp/1036907333