Down there the conversation was like Association football — no one kept the ball for more than one kick. It shot from head to head. And after every set of passes someone would reach out and take a cigarette, and blow a blue cloud across the unclothed refectory table. Fleur enjoyed the glow of her Spanish room — its tiled floor, richly coloured fruits in porcelain, its tooled leather, copper articles, and Soames’s Goya above a Moorish divan. She headed the ball promptly when it came her way, but initiated nothing. Her gift was to be aware of everything at once. … she presented them all, showed them off, keeping her eyes and ears on the ball lest it should touch earth and rest. Brilliant evening; but — a success?
—John Galsworthy, The White Monkey [A Modern Comedy, The Forsyte Chronicles]
I guess English football hasn’t changed much in the last 90 years. If only they paid more attention to Spanish football than Spanish décor!
[Apologies to non-soccer fans to whom my comments will mean nothing. And I beg the pardon of any English football fans out there. 🙂 ]