Falling out of love with professional football...

Now, don't get me wrong, I love football. I have since my first memories of the game. The emotions that it can bring still shred and jangle the nerves. But, I am falling out of love so very rapidly with the professional game, for these reasons (and a 100 more).

The lack of joy - the self-importance - the money - the lies - the suits - the kits - the boots - the sponsors - the throw-in coaches - the agents - the transfer deadline day - the journalists - the pundits - the bloody pundits - the lego stadia - the fixtures - the relentless fixtures - the pointless tournaments - the international breaks - the re-writing of history - the hyper-legacy culture - FIFA - UEFA - the backhanders - the TV rights - the ex-players harping on about when they were playing they could stab the opposition centre forward with a stiletto knife, bury his body in a trench behind the away dug-out and marry his bereaved wife and still have a pint with him in the players bar afterwards - the contrived commentary convincingly concocted by an alliterative allegory addict - the perfect pitches - the crisis club in complete chaos - the conmen - the chairmen - the ever changing kick-off times - the club ambassadors - the corporate hostility - The...... etc etc you get the picture...