In the early summer of 2018 the CONIFA World Cup, the World Cup for countries that aren't actually countries, took place in London. Finding the concept fascinating, and never being one for missing out on a bit of football happening in my area, I just had to take advantage.
It's safe to say it exceeded my expectations. Not just the football on display, which held a solid technical standard, albeit accompanied by some shortcomings fitness-wise, as games tended to fade out towards the end. No, the most pleasant surprise was the supporter culture. From the Tibet fans' joy at being able to represent and support their nation to the Hungarian ultras backing the various teams of ethnic Magyars from outside the country's borders. One of the latter eventually won the tournament as Karpatalya (Hungarians in western Ukraine) beat Northern Cyprus on a shoot-out in the final, with me only metres away, on a stand rocking with Hungarian enthusiasm amidst red, white and green smoke.
On my way home to Central London (Or more central than Enfield anyway), I was asked for directions by two fellow fans of fringe football who were going the same way, Phil from Yorkshire and an Italian guy whose name escapes me. As we joined forces on a bus taking us to the Piccadilly line, we got chatting about the tournament, and they told me about how they had once gone to western Zimbabwe to train with the players from Matabeleland, another CONIFA participant. When asked about what on earth drove them to this, Phil told me about Up Pohnpei.
I knew I had to read this book, so for the last nine months, whenever I was in a bookshop I trawled the sports section looking for it (Out of principle I avoid ordering books online). For long I was unsuccessful, but last week I finally found it hiding at the bottom of a corner shelf in Waterstones. My oh my, was it worth the wait. Light-hearted yet heartfelt, bitingly sarcastic yet hugely passionate. The enjoyment of the game, the pride in one's identity and the euphoria of seemingly insignificant victories that I'd seen in the CONIFA World Cup were recognisable throughout. If you're a football fan, you will love this book to pieces. If you're not, I'm surprised that you've read this far, but I would still recommend it if you
A. Are an admirer of British humour.
B. Like a good underdog story but hate Hollywood clichés.
C. Believe that just because something is unimportant, it does not mean that it doesn't matter.
Or any of the three, really. Read the book, that's what I'm trying to say.
So thank you, Paul Watson. And thanks to Phil, Phil's Italian friend, CONIFA, as well as everyone else who helps making the beautiful game even more beautiful.