In 1991 the World Wrestling Federation was
massive in the UK. We used to play Royal
Rumble during our school lunch, with elimination taking place for anyone who
was thrown into the hedge. The British
Bulldog was a big star in the States, and he was from Wigan which was only down
the road! How hard could it be?
I started doing press-ups every night. By the third night I couldn’t move my arms
without wanting to cry. Then my mate
said ‘they’re all on steroids anyway’ so I asked if he knew anyone who could
get me some. He offered to steal some
of his sister’s Slimfast. I declined and
the dream was over.
When it came to The Beautiful Game I wasn’t
gifted with natural talent. Nor did I
make up for this mammoth void of ability with a willingness to work hard. Where I was blessed however, was with an
almost unlimited amount of self-delusion.
To the point that at the age of 19, despite
never having risen above second choice centre-half for Lambshire Lane
under-15’s in South Sefton Sunday League Division 5, I still entertained the
idea of being discovered.
Where exactly, is anyone’s guess. I wasn’t playing for a team at this point and even a Hollywood biopic would seem far-fetched if the principal character was signed up by a Premier League Soccerball Franchise after being spotted excelling in a particularly competitive game of ‘kerby’ with his mates.
3.Rock Star
This appealed to me more than footballer as
I thought you could just get smashed, sleep around, fight with everyone and
still be successful.
And few footballers can get away with
that. Obviously Duncan Ferguson is an
anomaly. (The back of the Duncan
Ferguson DVD I got for Christmas is a hoot: ‘DUNCAN FERGUSON! ALL the red
cards! ALL the injuries! BOTH the goals!’)
I’ve got a stand up show called ‘Rock and Dole’ all about my dalliance with this profession so you’ll have to come see it. I know – a plug, mid blog. Shameless.
A precursor to the above, this was all
Morten Harket’s fault. He was the
frankly beautiful singer from A-Ha that I had a small man-crush on at aged 7. (Past tense, okay? What?)
When the badly animated video for Take On
Me came out it was lauded as a technological breakthrough. Watching it with 2014 eyes it comes off as a
tossy piece of GCSE media studies coursework.
My brother and I had matching corduroy jackets so I forced him to wear his and often beat him senseless until he agreed to mime alongside me to Take On Me. The snooker cue I wielded as a lethal weapon conveniently doubled as a fake mic stand.
This was the second goal I set myself in
life and sadly, I still haven’t got there.
(The first goal was to use the potty as a 2 year old, but the babysitter
wasn’t confident in my abilities so told me I had to ‘just go’ in my
nappie. Awful scenes.)
When I was 4 I told everyone that I was going to be an Ice Cream Man and they all humoured me like the sycophants adults become around toddlers.
“Ooh, he’s an ambitious little one, isn’t he Mrs Avery?”
That’s not ambition.
A mate of mine began his business career in Primary school by starting a fan club for himself and charging his friends 2 quid to join.
That is ambition.
Follow me on Twitter @samaverycomedy
