I moved to London from New York nearly six years ago, but every time this question comes up I still have no good answer: What¡¯s your team?
That would be football, the British obsession I¡¯ve assiduously avoided because it seemed, well, obsessive. I sometimes respond, ¡°I follow restaurants not football.¡± That elicits a smirk or a polite ¡°ha.¡± Then everyone goes back to talking footie and I¡¯m left staring at the froth in my beer.
It¡¯s not just a British thing. Over dinner the other day, my dining companion ¡ª a visiting American ¡ª told me he was in the country because he¡¯d only just got a ticket for a Liverpool match at Anfield Stadium. He¡¯d been a fan all his life and never seen the team play at home. He was ecstatic ¡ª despite a pretty desultory result for the Reds. As he and our server embarked on a spirited conversation about the sport and the standings, I focused on deboning the rather ugly fish that had just been placed on the table.
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