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Naivety of youth stayed forever

Ed the Editor's personal blog corner

When I was a kid, I would drive along in the car sat behind my father, and every car that came past I could identify it by make, and sometimes the year. I lost this arcane skill by age 12, at a time when all cars started to morph into hatchbacks and round-assed sedans.

I was quite shocked when aged 25, I met a guy who worked at a car parts store and he could still tell you the make, year of manufacture and an infinite range of stats about every car in the neighborhood. I was so glad I had grown out of that game young, because the car spotter was a bore and I was sure glad I hadn't ended up like him.

Age 13 I entered the world of train number spotting. For some reason I never got the hang of ID-ing trains, always making out I knew what was coming in the distance, but invariably I would resort to a wild hapless guess. As it zoomed past, I would surreptitiously scribble out the first few identifying numbers I had incorrectly guessed at and carry on as if I had got nothing wrong.

By age 14 I had forgotten all about trains, and still to this day, I cringe when I see older guys in anoraks with huge binoculars around their neck, perched at the farthest extremes of station platforms. Munching on horrible sandwiches, sipping on coke, they still try to get into train cabs just to mark the number off in their book. Weird and definitely a hobby that I am glad to say deserted my consciousness, never to return.

And finally, by age 18 I was a busted up sporty jock. I loved the rough and tumble of school sports and I could have been semi good for quite a few years more, and it is way more healthy for you than car spotting and train spotting, but, due to a few too many niggly injuries, not helped by playing a couple of games with a strapped up broken ankle, I took an enforced back seat to sport till my 30's.

I was pissed at the time, but in hindsight of all the pastimes undertaken by me as a kid, I think sport is the one endeavor where I was lucky to be forcibly retired to the sidelines.

The way I saw it as a spectator from the sideline was that, adult life can really screw with your perception of the spirit of a hobby or game. Watching any competitive contact sport, you suddenly realise the guy opposite really does want to hurt someone if necessary. You also see the crowd cheering with a different mindset to parents.

And after a game you see that many players are far from happy because they lost, or didn't play that well, and the ones who are happy in victory, spoil it with the need to get stupid. Whatever happened to the contentment in drinking a hot cup of coffee and munching on free sandwiches, chatting about shit to the opposition?

So, whereas I can safely say I am glad I am not young again, spotting trains and cars, I am also glad that I never had that naive spirit of fair play beaten out of me by adult sports. Although, if I could find out where that bastard who broke my ankle lives, maybe I could really sleep easy at night.

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