Smells like Teen spirit

Well, after my last pre-menstrual rant, I decided to take back control of my emotions with the aid of a few scented candles and a dimly lit bathroom. Lying in my warm water cocoon my mind drifted to thoughts of aromatherapy and it’s possible place in the game of football. Recently I have not only had to endure boys’ football matches, but have been dragged along as “support crew” to some of the senior matches. Now I have to confess, that for fifteen minutes I was held captive by what was laid out before me. Look beyond the odd portly fading footballer, and there are some pretty shapely forms running around on a football pitch, with the occasional Adonis mixed in amongst them. Toned thighs, shapely calves, primeval grunts with the occasional moment of high wit, Oh yes, I was beginning to “get” football, when all of a sudden they fell out; petulance of the highest order from the players, and raging and gesturing from the spectators. My husband informed me that this was a little early in the game for this to occur. Normally they all start the game the best of friends, get increasingly niggly as the game progresses, then, after around seventy five minutes, tiredness kicks in, and they all fall out and start fighting. In my view the obvious solution would be for them only to play for sixty minutes, or at least reduce the length of the game, as they got older. For example, ninety minutes up to the age of twenty five, seventy five minutes for the twenty five to thirty age group, and no more than an hour for the over thirties, at least then everyone goes home on the best of terms having had a good day out in the fresh air; a suggestion that drew withering looks from my husband. It was with this withering look in mind that I came up with the idea of an aromatherapist on the touchline working alongside the physiotherapist. At the first sign of a flare up, or disagreement at a contentious decision, on comes the aromatherapist with the scented candles, wafting the calming oils under the noses of the main protagonists. The aromatherapist’s title could be “sexed up” to suit the masculine environment; something like, “The pacifier” or “The fella with the smeller”
All games could be played in the evening, grounds that have a roof could close it, and the game played out under dimly lit floodlights, with soothing panpipe music before and after the game. Large cauldrons of suitable oils could be heated beneath the stands, the soothing vapours finding their way through vents to all parts of the crowd. Instead of a pie and a pint at half time, supporters could be encouraged to take a peppermint infusion and a ylang ylang biscuit. My husband retorts that it would be like playing football in a craft shop, and that part of the essence of competitive football is the drama and tension of one side trying to defeat the other, hence the primeval grunts and the spartacus thighs. I however feel that a lot of the tension could be removed from the game if the sides came together before kick off for some kind of Ayurvedic massage, and chanting. Talked about the impending game, agreed on the outcome and who was to play what role. Shared some herbal infusion provided by the home team, played the game as previously agreed and parted on the best of terms. Instead of swapping shirts at the end of the game, a gift of a scented candle or potpourri could be made, the scent chosen reflecting that particular player’s performance during the season to date. The teams parting on good terms after a supreme sensory experience.