How to Love a Sport in 10 Days

Is it possible to convert a sports sceptic to a fully fledged fanatic in just over a week?

“This is all a ploy to get someone to watch football with you,” Nora Donovan laughs. Unfortunately for her, the writing is on the wall: in ten days’ time, she will love sport.

Sport has everything that I love: community, competition, and a challenge, both physical and mental. It’s one of those rare things that is as addictive as it is good for you. It’s hard for me to understand how anyone wouldn’t share my enthusiasm; so, I decided to take on the challenge of converting my friend, who is completely disinterested in sport, in just ten days.

The first two days were slow-going — like a proverbial wet, windy night in Stoke, if you will. Despite dropping hints about going for a run or trying to start small talk about this season’s Premier League, I was met with nothing, or arguably worse, a polite smile and a change of topic.

The next two days were worse: with deadlines fast approaching, listening to me muse over the effectiveness of Arsenal’s new signings wasn’t only boring, but distracting. Instead of the gym, we took shelter in the library, where animated discussion about my Fantasy Premier League team was met with silence.

However, all hope was not lost. The more time we spent at our desks, the more Donovan seemed to crave excitement — a break from the monotony of scanning for spelling errors. For once, procrastination was on my side. Deadlines might just have made her exhausted enough to seek joy in something unexpected. 

“Just give me Monday to recover,” she asked me. I reluctantly agree.

Day six: tonight, Liverpool play Real Madrid and tonight, we will watch.

“I definitely didn’t realise how many people came out to watch,” Donovan admitted as I attempted to explain the offside rule with a menu and some cups.

Surrounded by screens, she experienced her first professional penalty (a shocking miss from Richarlison) and potential handball (along with the painstaking minutes of VAR deliberation that followed). Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her hold her breath at corners and smiled as the Liverpool fans erupted into cheers.

Finally, the ball was rolling as day seven approached. 

Fresh air could do us some good, I thought. I grabbed a ball and texted Donovan to meet me at the park.

“It reminds me of when I was younger,” she called, backing out of a catch. I pushed her to continue, and she rolled her eyes, sarcastically lecturing me on the benefits of sport. But I believe one of the first steps to loving something is not taking it too seriously.

Ten minutes later, she started committing to her catches, and after a tough one, she raised her hands to her face in the style of Arsenal’s new striker, Viktor Gyökeres. She’d absorbed more than I’d anticipated.

Day eight. It was time for something different. We strapped our feet into the gym’s rowing machines, and I put my coxing skills to use. Donovan learned quickly, and as we focused on staying in sync, we began to chat more freely. 

Donovan goes to the gym once a week, but a combination of crowded machines and self-consciousness when trying new exercises stops her from enjoying it.

“The best bit is the descent,” she laughed, reminiscing about her time as a climber. I cringed; as someone who is not a fan of heights, it sounded to me like a nightmare. Donovan didn’t waste a moment, using my moment of weakness to turn the tables on me. She asked why I love sports so much. The apprentice has become the master.

Day nine. Sunset. East Sands. I broke out the tennis ball again, but this time, we just messed around. I taught her to bowl like a cricketer, and she showed me her baseball throw.

“How would you like to watch St Andrews United play tomorrow?” I asked, bracing myself for the inevitable. Surely, going to an amateur football match is a step too far.

“Sure,” she replies. Didn’t see that one coming.

Day ten is planned, and I think I might just find myself pacing the sidelines with a brand-new sports fan.

Image by Gabriella Thomas