G*Nice column: What's the game of the beautiful?

I am sitting at my favourite café at Dubai Marine, a fresh mango juice in hand, listening to the waves breaking on the beach while Notorious B.I.G. raps his lyrical wizardry into my headphones...

I have to pinch myself to believe how blessed I am. Being lucky enough to live an Evian lifestyle on lemonade money!
I considered myself a pretty ordinary bloke and, like many, I grew up playing, supporting and watching the Beautiful Game – otherwise known as football.

I don't consider myself obsessed by it, maybe because I choose to support a London team that hasn't seen much success in the years that I have followed them. And the less one talks about England's recent history the better.

That said, my wonderfully imbalanced life in Dubai affords me time to indulge myself in the game to a level that is best described as being between a passion and a semi-pro career.

If I am not talking about it with my mates of all nationalities, I am playing in either 'friendly' games contested with a conviction where observers sense that lives depend on the result, or in tournaments where those taking part feel that sense of life/death purpose!

I have probably made as many friends playing football here as I have in my other extra-curricular activities. It reminds me of the story from the First World War where over Christmas and New Year, opposing troops put down their weapons and had a game in no man's land between the trenches.

The result of that game, by the way, was never recorded in the history books, but as England were involved I can guarantee that it was probably a draw after extra time. We would no doubt have had a perfectly good goal disallowed and eventually lost on penalties!

Not so dramatic a scenario, but I fondly remember a road trip a bunch of us took to Oman, where we stumbled upon a remote fishing village.

We met a group of people on the beach, sorting out their nets and maintaining the boats, and with the language barrier that was clearly in evidence, the only solution to having a meeting of souls was to play a game right there on the beach.

Our girls were welcomed into the family home to prepare some lunch for after, while we battled in two teams for about an hour.

I would have scored a majestic last-minute winner that day, but I slipped on a discarded hammour just as I was about to pull the trigger! It remains one of my most poignant and comical memories of my time thus far in the Gulf.

From my experience, I don't know why the United Nations doesn't merge with FIFA and try to use football to bring all the world's conflicts together in a stadium and play it out over 90 minutes. Simplistic and wishful thinking, I know, but with that dream what a wonderful world it would be.

The point I am trying (desperately, struggling!) to reach without running the risk of losing my legion of female fans with this column, is that we boys have the Beautiful Game (or any sport of interest) pumping through our veins but what, I wonder, is the equivalent for the girls? What is the Game of the Beautiful?

I don't pose that question suggesting that girls don't like football, or any other sporting activity for that matter – but it's the way that it's woven into the male make-up as a bonding mechanism, conversational ice-breaker, social pastime and generic point of interest.

I can speculate that maybe girls have their retail and fashion forums, discussing shoes until one day turns into another. But knowing girls as I do, I'm sure that your discussions are much more meaningful.

Maybe the main topic is boys and how they seem to have more interest and passion for football than they do for anything else!

So holla back sisters and let me know your thoughts.
Blowing the whistle for the end of the game.
Full-timing-ly yours.