I have secret confidence that embroidery, playing the piano and the ability to shut up in time – the main female virtues.

I have secret confidence that embroidery, playing the piano and the ability to shut up in time – the main female virtues. For what can be more therapeutic from the point of view of a man who has been reached on his left hand, absolute hearing and tact? The bearers of these decorative advantages are at the tops of the hit parades from century. Only all three should coincide, if you suddenly began to bend your fingers. Of course, a woman can do anything and successfully attract driving on a motorcycle – but hold the height … exclusively see. higher

These women can afford something from the men’s menu, and it will look extremely elegant. My grandmother adored hockey and football. I drew the tables and vigilantly monitored the championships. My aunt Zoya Lvovna selflessly played cards. Queen Elizabeth – avid fisherman. Perhaps these are exceptions. And the rule – I myself

. I have all the above with curiosity, comparable to the campaign in the zoo.

On real football, I was once in my life. Despite the fact that it has grown in a rather gambling atmosphere (nevertheless, in a modest girlish consciousness, football takes place under the article of excitement, not sports). In any case, in my environment, all the fans as a selection, or hereditary preferenceists, or, at worst, fishermen. Grandfather, father, brother, husband plus grandmother – hockey fan. Also, by the way, Preferendist. Maybe it’s just a coincidence.

Football, thus, entered my life as a knife in oil. About grandmother and hockey I have already said. Grandfather also watched hockey, but preferred football, because he saw the ball better than the puck. Dad stores tickets for the Dynamo match – the 1945 CDA, where his father brought him as a boy. Moscow stadium. Eastern tribune. Brother learned to read as early as possible, only to look for the schedule of tournaments in a television program.

Nevertheless, I treated football incorrectly. It was necessary, like my friend Katya, to go with her husband for all matches in any weather. With a foam pad in case of early frosts. Gradually learning the tactics of gears, styles and authorship of textbook heads, Katya developed the rudiments of empathy, and her husband appreciated this. And my empathy is still under threat. I did not go to matches, did not watch their broadcasts and, in general, remained quite indifferent to this kind of leisure. Even very unlimited in some cases, when football struck in short -term family prospects. Practice showed that it would be correct to treat football as an inevitable, but the most innocent evil. And I was led by obvious egoism, requiring annual attention from the maximum number of people. The classification of evil, by the way, was quite immature.

Despite this, and, apparently, looking at some of my virtues, they still took me for the company for European championship in Vienna. There I got to the stadium where almost everything surprised me. Accustomed to a spectacular television picture, I was terribly disappointed with toy figures of players, silently and somehow frivolously moving around the field. Then: the annoying voice of the commentator, which annoys you all Saturday evening, like a neighboring drill. At the stadium – you will be surprised – it is not and significantly lacking. Somehow lonely and anxious without this bububu and oyyooooooo-shirt. Do not know what to think. Further-it is believed that at the stadium some incredibly gambling atmosphere is created, tension is tripled, you fall into the wave. So. Since we bought tickets immediately before the match, we did not choose a place, we ended up on the rostrum of the Spaniards. And the wave covered us with my head, could even shift if that. There was such a danger, of course, but this is not the main thing. The main thing is that we lose. And most likely we will lose. And then there comes a sharp moment, a successful pass or hit on goal (ours, of course), when all this Spanish fiesta is healed on the right and left. Crites scream, duddles are blowing, and you, stunned, are afraid to lose sight of those who you are longer. And then suddenly in the middle of this Corrida my companion rises, turns over our flag over my head and stands on this enemy podium for a minute. Silently. One. Fearless. And I no longer look at the field at all. Only on him.

Either football in Russia is more than football, or I missed something, studying men ..