I woke up super early on Boxing Day, still full of turkey and Yule log from yesterday – I can’t believe how much food Mum had made! She got up even earlier than us to put the turkey in the oven, watching Jamie Oliver on YouTube as she prepared it.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y-Q_BOtnma8
On Boxing Day, I was up early checking my phone from around 6AM, willing SHARP to send my mission.
Finally, at 8.50 AM it arrived, that familiar buzzing that got stronger and stronger until you opened the screen. I sat with my back against my bedroom door, so no one could walk in and ask me to explain why my phone was projecting a bright blue screen that filled the room.
<Details of current travel option>
<Date>
<December 26, 1860>
<Location>
<Sandygate, Sheffield, England>
This must be where the first football match was. I started to wish I’d done a bit more research but I was having too much fun on Christmas day and Jenny would be far too suspicious if I started looking up history things on Christmas day.
<Instructions>
<None. Just have fun. But remember to wear the time travel disc on your forehead so that we can capture data.>
<Conditions>
<Cold, ground frozen and <cold, ground=”” frozen=”” and=”” <span=”” class=”hiddenGrammarError” pre=”and “>a chance of rain.>
I didn’t even hesitate for a second – I picked up the time travel bag and pressed the green button. The familiar whirring sound rang in my ear, getting louder and louder until … nothing.
The next thing I knew I was sat on cold, hard mud surrounded by bushes. I couldn’t see a thing apart from the leaves and tangle of tiny branches all around me. But I could hear something…well a lot of things: The sound of heavy footsteps coming right behind where I was sitting, the sound of men laughing and coughing.
‘This had best be worth it,” I heard one man mutter.
“Too right, was hard enough getting away from all this Christmas bother.”
“Football matches – it’ll ne’er catch on.” Another, younger man’s voice chimed in.
A blur of Yorkshire accents and heavy-booted feet scuffing by made it impossible to make out much of what anyone else was saying. But I couldn’t spend the whole time sat in a bush, SHARP would never let me live it down.
I felt around for a way out of the bramble and immediately felt something soft to my left. It was the clothes SHARP had left for me. I though back to some of the crazy costumes I’ve put on this year – never again will I complain about wearing fancy dress!
But these clothes weren’t too bad at all, yeah they were woolen, itchy and slightly damp – but not smelly, like the sweaty pirate clothes, or heavy like the chain mail from medieval Scotland. The trousers were grey and fastened at the waist with mismatching buttons, there were two belt loops and there was a tatty length of string pulled through the loops hold them up. For the top half I had a grubby white shirt, a waistcoat that matched the trousers and then a kind of blazer that was too big and more of a greeny colour than the grey of the trousers. I didn’t get any socks, but there were some leather, industrial-looking boots – like the kind that are back in fashion now. Jenny keeps moaning for mum to get her a pair from River Island – she’d be well jealous if she knew I was wearing a pair of originals from 1860.
I clambered out from the bushes and a strong arm lifted me to my feet. He had a large moustache, a blue cap with a shiny badge and a some kind of wooden contraption, like a those wooden rattles that they banned from modern-day football games
“We don’t want to trouble from the likes of you, now run along young man,” he said and pushed me in the same direction that everyone else was walking.
I ran a little way, as I figured that was what he wanted me to do and slowed down when I reached a group of boys. Everyone seemed to be walking to the same place, but I couldn’t see a football stadium or anything.
Instead there was a large field with men all stood around the edge of the pitch. There weren’t any white lines of anything like that and the goals were just three pieces of wood nailed together and dug into the ground, in fact one of them was leaning forward at quiet an angle.
The players were already on the pitch, waiting to start. In the centre of the field was a full on brass band. A drum roll echoed around the ground and everyone around me cleared their throats. The band started playing ‘God Save the Queen’ and everyone around sung along as loud as they could. It was so loud, just like at the Olympics whenever someone British won.
The players didn’t look like players today; they were wearing trousers, blazers and caps. The only way to tell them apart was that one team had red caps and the other team had blue caps.
The Sheffield FC team
One man had a huge, brown football under his arm. He threw it into the air and kicked it. The thud from his boot made me realize that the ball was probably very heavy and when it landed, it didn’t bounce, just kind of bobbled along the wet ground. I hoped no one would try to head the ball, they might break their necks!
The Hallam FC team
A horn rang out and the game began, players were everywhere and were actively pushing each other around. But something seemed odd, there were loads of players on the pitch, each side must have had about 20 players, it was crazy. And then the weirdest thing happened…
…A player drew back kicked the ball high into the air and then a bit further down the pitch a man ran to stand underneath the ball and instead on controlling it on his chest, he held out his hands and caught the ball.
“Handball!” I shouted, I couldn’t stop myself.
“Don’t worry, lad,” a man next to me put his hand on my shoulder – you’ll get used to the rules.
The player dropped the ball, kicked it and it was then intercepted by another player who batted it away with his hand and then ran after it towards the goal. A lot of pushing and shoving followed, men fell down, others tripped over them and somehow, with a combination of kicking and hitting the ball with their hands, the ball found it’s way through the posts.
The Original football rulebook – explains a lot!
The crowd clapped politely and the players returned the their positions.
I couldn’t believe what I was seeing!
The game went on and one, for what seemed like hours. I couldn’t feel my hands or my feet, but no one around me seemed too bothered about the cold. In fact, it was getting so late that the light was starting to fade.
After two goals at one end, the game was reset again. The player in the middle picked up the ball and kicked it high into the air. Players ran everywhere and I noticed two men with red caps ran straight to their opponent’s goal. It’s what Mark likes to do – it’s called goal hanging and it’s totally illegal.
They stood there for ages waiting for the ball to make its way up the pitch. Finally one man booted it as hard as he could. The red-capped player palmed it to the floor and kicked it straight through the posts. Everyone around me cheered and clapped, which drowned out me shouting , “Offside!”
I must be stood with the red cap supporters, I thought.
“Ha’way, lad – it’s not rugby,” said another tall man to my right hand side.
The game went on and on until we could barely see the players anymore. Then a horn sounded and the match was over. The brass band traipsed back on to the pitch for a rather less rousing rendition of ‘God Save the Queen’. And it suddenly occurred to me that I wasn’t singing for Queen Elizabeth II, it must be Queen Victoria – blows my mind!
The crowds dispersed, the two men either side of me started muttering to each other about the cold.
“I hope this Boxing Day football thing doesn’t catch on,” one of them said.
“Aye, what say you young man?” he asked putting his hand on my shoulder.
“Football is brilliant,” I said, “it’ll be the biggest sport in England.”
He laughed at me, ruffled my hair and then pushed me forward like the policeman had done earlier. I took it as my cue to ‘run along’ and as my numb feet struck the frozen ground I felt a familiar buzzing in my pocket…
Time Travel is Possible! 