ABSTRACT
The difference between an Olympian struggle and a match at Birmingham or Liverpool is more striking than the resemblance. The excitement is so infectious that a Lord Chesterfield might be found now waving his hat on his elegant cane, now hooting savagely at an offending referee. For either a man can play football very well, or he cannot; there is no gracious intermediate state, as in cricket, where a man can earn an honourable living by teaching others how to play. Almost every fragmentary snatch of conversation which one hears is a piece of football criticism or prophecy. The idolatry of the game often gives occasion for strange spectacles. The football professional is often compared with the paid cricketer, and it is added that what is sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander. The anomalous condition of the Rugby game at present is notorious, as the possession of money has sapped morals of clubs in Yorkshire and Lancashire.
