Edward Phillips - The World’s Best Football Jokes

The following instruction recently appeared on the notice-board of a large car factory in Cowley: ALL APPLICATIONS FOR LEAVE OF ABSENCE FOR FAMILY BEREAVEMENTS, SICKNESS, JURY DUTY, ETC., MUST BE HANDED IN TO THE PERSONNEL MANAGER NO LATER THAN 6 P.M. ON THE DAY PRECEDING THE MATCH.

A goalkeeper had had a particularly bad season and announced that he was retiring from professional football. In a television interview he was asked his reasons for quitting the game. ‘Well, basically,’ he said, ‘it’s a question of illness and fatigue.’

‘Can you be more specific?’ asked the interviewer.

‘Well,’ said the player, ‘specifically the fans are sick and tired of me.’

Over breakfast one morning, a little boy kept staring intently at his grandfather. ‘Is anything the matter, son?’ the old man asked.

‘No, Gramps. I was just wondering what position you play in the football team.’

‘What are you talking about?’ laughed Gramps. ‘I’m far too old to play football.’

‘Oh,’ said the little boy. ‘It’s just that Dad said that when you kicked off, we’d be able to afford a new car.’

In a particularly rough tackle, a player was knocked unconscious. A first-aid man ran over and began to sprinkle water in his face and fan him with a towel. Slowly the player recovered consciousness and said groggily, ‘How the hell do they expect us to play in all this wind and rain?’

One Friday afternoon, late last season, a leading member of a big First Division club was tragically knocked down and killed by a hit-and-run driver. One of the reserves, seeing a chance to get a game at last, approached the coach and asked, ‘Do you think I could take his place, boss?’

That’s a good idea,’ replied the coach. ‘I’ll see if I can arrange it with the undertaker.’

A football widow decided to take an interest in the game in order to share her husband’s pastime. One Saturday afternoon she accompanied him to the local match. It was a good game: plenty of open play, good attacking movements and strong defence. She was enjoying the game when suddenly all the players except one froze and stood like statues. The active player grabbed the ball and shoved it up his jersey. Then he too remained motionless. The woman looked at the referee to see what action he was going to take, but he too was in a statue-like position.

‘Whatever are they doing?’ she asked.

‘Oh, they’re posing for the “Spot-the-Ball” competition,’ replied her husband.

An American visitor to England watched his very first football match and was struck by the differences between English and American football. After the match he fell into conversation with one of the English players and remarked, ‘You know, over in the States, our players wear thick protective clothing. You guys must be frozen stiff in those light clothes.’

‘It’s not so bad,’ said the Englishman. ‘Sometimes the ground is covered in snow.’

‘You don’t say!’ exclaimed the American. ‘What do you do about the balls? Paint them red?’

‘Oh, no,’ said the player. ‘We just wear an extra pair of shorts.’

A Fourth Division coach was addressing his team during a training session. ‘Now, lads,’ he said, ‘over the last few months, I’ve given you a lot of tips and advice on passing, dribbling, kicking and defensive play.’ The team nodded appreciately. ‘Well, you can forget it all,’ said the coach, ‘because we’ve just sold the bloody lot of you!’

A well-known footballer and his wife recently decided to take a holiday at a nudist camp. He was asked to referee the camp football match but, surprisingly, he declined the offer. ‘Why did you refuse to referee that match?’ asked his wife.

‘I wasn’t too happy about where I had to carry the spare whistle,’ replied the husband.

There was once a match in Liverpool between Anglican vicars and Roman Catholic priests. Early in the game the Catholics were awarded a penalty. Father Flanagan placed the ball carefully, took a long run at it, and kicked. The ball sailed high into the air and missed the goal by miles. Father Flanagan didn’t utter a word. He just stood there with a grim expression on his face. The team captain, Monsignor Ryan, came up behind him and said reprovingly, ‘Father, that is the most profane silence I have ever heard!’

It was the last game of the season. Mathieson had been with the team from the start but he was such a slow and clumsy player that never once had he actually been allowed to play, but had spent all his time on the substitute bench. At this last match, however, there were so many fouls and injuries that every substitute but him had been sent on. With ten minutes to go, yet another player was carried off the field and the coach looked at the substitute bench, his eye finally alighting on Mathieson. Mathieson’s face lit up. ‘Are you going to send me on, coach?’ he asked eagerly.

‘No!’ snapped the coach. ‘Just get out of the way. I’m going to send in the bench!’

The reigning Miss World – from Brazil – was invited to start a charity football match by performing the ceremonial kick-off. After an excellent game, which raised a great deal of money, a dinner was held. During the speeches which followed, Miss World made the evening for all present when, in broken English and with great charm, she said, ‘It eez great honour for me to kick off your ball; I will be pleased to come back any time to English football clubs and kick all your balls off.’

Did you hear about the England international player who had a date with a referee’s daughter? She penalised him three times – for handling, interference and trying to pull off a jersey.

Referees at Celtic Rangers matches always have a particularly hard time. One poor unfortunate, officiating at his first fixture, was checking in with the team managers before the kick-off. ‘Well, that seems to be about everything,’ said the Rangers boss. ‘Now, if you’d just like to give us the name and address of your next-of-kin, we can start the match.’

A player was being ticked off by the coach for missing a very easy goal-kick. ‘All right,’ said the player, ‘how should I have played the shot?’

‘Under an assumed name,’ snapped the coach.

The football club dance was in full swing when three strangers arrived and demanded admission. ‘May I see your tickets, please?’ said the club secretary at the door.

‘We haven’t got any tickets,’ said one of the men. ‘We’re friends of the referee.’

‘Get out of here!’ said the club secretary. ‘Whoever heard of a referee with three friends!’

‘When I started as a commentator,’ says John Motson, ‘I was bombarded by letters from an irate viewer in the north who resented my reference to the colour of shirts which teams were wearing. His point was that he came from a working-class family who could not afford colour television, and was fed up with being told who was in the red shirts or the green shirts, when he had no way of identifying them. Determined to do something to pacify him, I waited for a quiet moment in a match at Roker Park, and then came out with a remark I have never been allowed to forget! “For those watching in black-and-white,” I said, “Spurs are in the yellow shirts!”’

John once received a letter from the Race Relations Board when, after a particularly good goal by Watford, he said, There’s a case of Barnes doing the spade-work for Blissett!’ He adds that he didn’t intend this remark to come out the way it did – although nobody laughed louder than the black players themselves!