Niece from Greece

Another Cardiff City FC story. And another typical incident post-match involving my dad. These things tended to happen every week to him...

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Niece from Greece
One of our delightful young nieces, that we’d never ever met before, and was really the daughter of Teresa’s cousin Lena, came to stay with us in Cardiff while she attended college for the betterment of her squeaky speaky English.  Ismini was, fortunately for me,  a football fan, being from Thessalonika, a destination for several of St Paul’s letters of admonishment and good hope.  

Ismini, known as Minnie, was 21 years old and with a background in department stores and tavernas, her mother however, wished to turn her into an air stewardess.  Hence her presence in South Wales and her ambition to improve her basic English.

Thus it was that we wended our way to the Cardiff City Stadium one mild evening in February to cheer on our darling Bluebirds taking on the Foxes of Leicester City.  We met up with a pile of friends and made our way to the upper tier to witness the commencement of battle.  When at a live match, I use an earpiece tuned to Radio Wales in my one ear and a chatty chum, usually Martin,  in the other ear to provide commentary and fill in the fickle fortunes of a 22 man tournament.  

We howled and cheered the match away while Minnie took videos and photographs on her mobile phone, and Cardiff were victorious by two goals to nil.  A little lucky at times, but we were happy enough to win.  You must understand, although foxes can catch chickens easily enough, bluebirds are much more elusive.  We soar downwards, take a couple of pecks at those silly foxes, and off we escape back up to the sky.

With voices just about still intact, we supped on a glass of lager in the Premier Lounge in order to give our transport a little time to get to us.  There was a stadium of over 22,000 to clear so there was no rush to get away amongst the bustling crowds.  Instead we took a leisurely drink and watched the other results roll in.  


Then we strolled outdoors again, me holding onto her arm, to find Teresa for our lift home.  While walking around the car park, Minnie said suddenly,  ‘Oh look, there’s our black player!’ and started to drag me towards him.  Before I knew what hit me, Minnie asked him imploringly for ‘One Picture please’ in her most ingratiating accent, and pushed me next to him.  It must be Seyi Olifangana, our Nigerian star I thought to myself with immense satisfaction.  Fantastic.  He was so unexpectedly tall, he ducked his head down to my level in order that Minnie could get us both in the same frame.  I said to him after her mobile had brightly flashed, she’s come all the way from Greece to support Cardiff.  He acknowledge my comments with a foreign accent of his own.  He was a really great guy, very charming and polite.

Before I had a chance to thank him properly, Minnie dragged me off again to pose with another player.  ‘One picture please’ she repeated.  I didn't know who it was, but he put his hand on my shoulder at Minnie’s charming supplication and we both smiled for her camera.  As I thanked him, she dragged me off yet again and approached another cluster of players.  This time I stood back as she snapped away at their compliant smirks.

It suddenly occurred to me that no one else was autograph hunting or taking photographs of our beloved heroes.  It may have been 30 or 40 minutes after the end of the match, but surely there would have still been enough City fans around to mob the players.

That Homer Simpson moment hit me straight between the eyes!  Doh!  I turned to my niece from Greece and said, ‘Are you sure these are our players?’  for we seemed to be surrounded by not just one or two players, but the whole squad.  She stopped concentrating on her mobile phone for a moment and looked around us.  Then she laughed as she recognised one of the players.  ‘Oh no’ she replied and started to giggle, ‘there’s the Japanese substitute that came on for Leicester in the second half.  I recognise him now’.

Oh goodness!  This story must be kept top secret.  Nobody must know that I have been posing with the opposition.  Posing only?  Nay, not just posing, but smiling and cavorting with the enemy!  If Minnie ever turned out to be an unscrupulous operator, she could certainly hold me to ransom.  But fortunately, she is my niece from Greece.

27 February 2011