There’s a peculiar kind of pressure that comes with watching a major football final—especially when you’re surrounded by friends who expect insightful commentary. But what happens when you have absolutely nothing intelligent to say?
That was my predicament during the Euro 2025 final. As the match unfolded, my brain stubbornly refused to produce any coherent analysis. No tactical observations, no predictions, not even a half-decent joke. Just silence.
The Art of Saying Nothing
At first, I panicked. Shouldn’t a lifelong football fan have something to contribute? But as the game wore on, I realised something liberating: my silence wasn’t a failure. It was a choice.
Instead of forcing out meaningless chatter, I embraced the moment. The roar of the crowd, the tension in the air, the sheer unpredictability of it all—none of it needed my commentary to be enjoyed.
When Less Is More
Football, at its best, speaks for itself. The drama of a last-minute goal, the agony of a missed penalty, the ecstasy of victory—these moments don’t require narration. Sometimes, the most profound way to experience the game is to simply be there.
By the final whistle, I hadn’t uttered a single insightful word. And yet, I’d enjoyed every minute. Maybe, just maybe, that’s the real beauty of football.
