‘We are all goalkeepers now,’ declares Robert McCrum, and who could seriously argue with that? Every day we try to defend our own goal against the hurtling ball of fate, but too often end up fishing it out of the back of the net. Then again, we are also all strikers, hopefully hoofing, occasionally taking a bit of a dive in the box. Or central defenders, muddied but valiant. Or nippy little wingers, making mazy but pointless runs down life’s touchline, whingeing at the referee. Come to think of it, we are all, in a very real sense, referees too.
There is no end to the football-as-metaphor game. For the football metaphorist, every pass and kick, tackle or foul represents some grand, universal truth about life and the wider world. McCrum is a metaphorist to his fingertips, and the penalty kick is a particularly rich source of material. For Freudians, we learn from his book, a penalty represents desire and penetration. For philosophers, it embodies alienation. For a literary chap like McCrum, the penalty-taker is actually a writer:
Every striker who steps up to take a spot-kick participates in the cliff-hanger of creativity – the mystery of storytelling – and will mimic the artistic blank canvas of a blank page, forever uncertain of the outcome until the moment of commitment.
McCrum and penalties – how did we get here? It turns out that there is a personal story to tell. Rule 14 in the FA’s rule-book, the concept that around the goal there should be a rectangular area within which any foul by an attacking player results in a penalty, was the brainchild in 1891 of Willie McCrum, Robert’s great-grandfather.
Comments
Join the debate for just £1 a month
Be part of the conversation with other Spectator readers by getting your first three months for £3.
UNLOCK ACCESS Just £1 a monthAlready a subscriber? Log in