‘IMPRESS THE LADS WITH YOUR WORLD CUP KNOWLEDGE.’

Here’s my World Cup quiz. (Like the Irish Times prize crossword once, answers at bottom of pg.)

1. Who was England’s football manager in the 1970 World Cup?
2. In which World Cups did Bryan Robson appear?
3. Who scored England’s dying seconds winner in the 1990s World Cup?
How did you do? Anyone score a hat trick?

The world of men is split roughly in two. Some blokes would know all the answers to those questions, or at least take an informed guess. Then there’s ones like me. I only know the answers because I pinched the questions off the internet. In fact. I’ve already forgotten the answers. If I was in your pub quiz team I’d have to sneak a look at my Iphone in the loo – or wait for the 80s music round while trying to look as if I had the foggiest.

Being from Manchester, this has disadvantaged me man and boy. I always got my Macaris mixed up with my McIlroys , while the reds I was at school with always knew the line up, manager’s name and which brand of gum they chewed in the 81-82 season- for every team in leagues I’d never heard of. Others wearing sky blue had their team’s full collection of ’20 Greatest Throw In’ videos. But I’m more like that bloke in the pub in the Fast Show who tries manfully to join in with football conversation and then, “I’ll get me coat.”

Since coming back to the rainy city my mate Andy – who knew all three answers above – has declared his mission now is to make me a better United fan (not many of us actually come from Manchester so it’s good to stick together). I’m afraid it’s a losing battle.

I was put off footie for years while working in the cops because it became just a place where you had to fight drunks, but now I have to say I like watching football. I can even get embarrassingly excited, but (I am ashamed to admit it), I couldn’t tell you the score of the last game I watched. My brain doesn’t work like that.

Lots of men are like this when it comes to things religious, and the Bible in particular. It’s a big book – where do you start? Pick a page at random and it gets worse. All those weird names, and places with funny names. There’s a book called Numbers but that’s full of names too! All a bit boring – very confusing – and there’s nothing men like less than not appearing to know something about anything, so let’s blag it, like people do about Shakespeare.

Wasn’t Joseph married to Mary? Didn’t he sing in that West End musical in a nice coat? One teenager in our church was recently overheard saying Jesus was ‘the carpet-fitter of Nazareth.’

Some guys I talk to have more of an idea than that, even a few bits from school RE. Lots have a wife, friend or colleague so far advanced in this kind of knowledge you know you’ll never catch up – so you’ve given up. Your brain just can’t hold that sort of information.

I have good news for you. Christianity is not a bible trivia quiz, it’s a relationship.
When some people came to Jesus – these religious scholars knew the whole of the Old Testament back to front, – but he said, “You diligently search the scriptures…but refuse to come to me for eternal life.” They knew all kinds of trivia, but the star player was standing right in front of them and they missed him.

Here’s what I have found. If I spent more time learning football statistics it might make me a better fan, but the more I study the Bible, I become a better man. Because the Bible’s not just a story. It’s God’s message about how he’s rescuing the world one life at a time, and the part you play in that. Not just as a spectator, but as a player on his team!
At the end of your life, when all the trophies are forgotten, God’s not going to ask you to name all Ten Commandments (answers in Exodus 20), but he will ask, “When you broke them, did you come to the only One who can fix you? My Son, Jesus?”

God’s not going to ask you to name all Twelve Apostles (and who replaced Judas on the first team – answers in Matthew 10 and Acts 1). He’s going to ask, “Did you know… ME?”
The answer to that question will decide a lot more than who buys the next round.

ANSWERS: 1. Sir Alf Ramsey 2. 1982, 1986, 1990. 3. David Platt.

(This article is featured in the latest edition of Sorted magazine – get it now!)

The parable of the fans

I was asked to speak at a funeral today of a lovely Christian lady. The first time I met her she only had one question to ask, (it’s what she first asked her husband when they met too i’m told) which many Mancunians would relate to; “United or City?”

From the latest City video: "10 Great throw-ins."

I had to disappoint her. She was a very strong and passionate City fan. I’m not much of a fan compared with many – but it’d have to be United.

Well at the service I retold a retelling (if you follow me) of the parable of the sower. It comes from Keith Tondeur’s cracking book, “Street Parables.” It went something like this –

The story is of a football club who got a new manager.

Some ‘fans’ immediately rejected the manager. they didn’t believe one person could make any difference anyway.

Others came along to the next match, but the squad didn’t do too well that day so they complained all the way home that they’d had to watch such a rubbish team.

Another group of supporters were the fairweather sort. When the cost of tickets seemed too high or they had to travel or make some kind of sacrifice, they soon packed in and hung up their scarves.

But there were some who became season ticket holders. They supported on good days and bad. Singing loudly and supporting strongly, through thick and thin.

They were greatly rewarded with excellent seats on the day when the team went to Wembley to play in the cup final – and won a great victory everyone would remember forever!

(He who has ears to hear – let him hear)

Good to know you’ve got a great seat there Mary.

I may just get back into football

I was put off organised footie after so many fights and scrapes as a policeman, especially for the short time on the Tactical Aid Group, when all we did was dash from match to match where the fighting was thickest. After a while it kind of loses its fun when associated with beer, blood and spit.

After last night’s match, however, I think when we move back to Manchester I’ll be tempted back to the ‘Theatre of Dreams’ again. A great bonding moment with Joel as we jumped around the lounge when United won, as often, it’s a shame it went to penalties and you just expect a bad result when that happens (well it will be for one side!).

My first ever visit was when I was a police cadet at 16. I’d been in all of about three weeks when someone went sick and I got the chance to work the match. My uniform was miles too big for me and though I considered myself a man of the world by then, I probably didn’t even look 14! The job before and after the match was crowd control, which consisted for me and my mate Dean of standing with arms outstretched saying, “Wait at the kerb please,” or “Cross now please.”

At kick off the streets emptied we asked a passing Sergeant what we should do now. “I don’t know – go in the executive box if you want.”

He reckoned without us being daft enough to take him at his word. We went through every security checkpoint, and when asked, “Where are you going?” we just replied, “The executive box.” Doors opened, and we found ourselves watching the match with Martin Edwards, then chairman. After a fantastic time, we walked back to our posts at the end of the match. The Sergeant asked “Where the hell were you?” and when we told him, he went white as a sheet, then red as a United shirt.

I suppose there’s a sermon illustration there for me, about just believing the word, or walking in authority. Or maybe it was just a great first trip to Old Trafford I’ll never forget!

The old joke is that nobody who actually comes from Manchester supports United, though my Granddad Jack was a fanatic of the first order and always wore something red. My older brother rebelled against that and became a City fan, to the disgust of the rest of us. Last night I rang him at half time and he was telling me that in his opinion 70% of city fans would rather Chelsea won the European cup than United (‘ because they have a bit of blue…’). Bizarre in my opinion, there’s more that unites us than divides us.

Anyway despite my rubbing his nose in the result this morning, he has taken the loss in good spirits it seems, as he sent me the attached…