Sunday League: The Ultimate Hangover Cure

As the week comes to a close and students begin to feel the wretched Sunday scaries, teams of twenty slug their way down to the sports centre. Their love of that black-and-white ball outweighs their buzzing hangovers. From early in the morning till after sunset, the Sunday league football games overtake the pitches. Made up of two divisions and eighteen teams, every weekend sees eight entertaining games. As someone with neither a background in football nor an understanding of the significance of the Sunday League, I decided to take 80 minutes out of my weekend to give it a good watch. 

Luckily for me, I got to watch BLFC play against St Randrews. On the sidelines, music was bumping and there were varying levels of engagement from spectators. Speaking to them, I was filled in on the BLFC’s violent first game which ended in two trips to the hospital for a broken collarbone, a concussion and a shoulder out of its socket. Sadly, the risk was without reward and BLFC lost the game 5-0. I was quickly reassured that the first game was a unique experience, though apparently, other Sunday Leagues around the UK can get rowdy. But, because it is a student league, players are much more wary about getting aggressive: “You don’t want to ruin it,” says Oumar of the Butts Wynders. In past years, some teams played too aggressively, such as Daddy’s Secret Sauce, which caused “problems.” Most of the time, it seems injury comes from mere accidents, like when two players ran into each other and then spent ten minutes searching for the tooth that fell out.

To gain some perspective on the epic highs and lows of the Sunday League, I chatted with two players from the Butts Wynders and two from BLFC. These teams are in different divisions within the league, but that did not seem to mean much. I sat them down and asked the hard-hitting questions that someone with absolutely no knowledge of football can ask, such as, “Why don’t you wear shin pads?” and, “How would you describe your team in three words?” The answers will not surprise you. 

BLFC’s team can be spotted from a mile away in their purple shirts. Founders Zac and Harry had high hopes for the team kit but settled on purple because it was economical with the over £200 team fee. Zac and Patrick, from the team, told me about how the lack of commitment is what makes their team so much fun. They start their games with absolutely no preparation, just praying that enough people show up and that there’s a large enough speaker to blast some 2000s hits (specifically, Ke$ha and the Black Eyed Peas). 

The Butts Wynders are similar, hoping enough players show up and playing some tunes. Isaac’s pre-game advice is simple but effective: “Try not to be hungover… Eat a banana.” Sorry BLFC, but the Butts Wynders kit looks much more professional with their half-red, half-black collared shirts. No one on the team knows what the Arabic script on the back of their shirts says; their best guess was a rough translation of ‘Butts Wynders’. Butts Wynders as a team was described as “bad, unserious, and fun” by Isaac, and “relaxed, committed, and friendly” by Oumar. They play for fun, just as everyone in the league does, and said they had not been a part of any juicy fighting stories. Isaac had played on Never to Excel, which sadly fell apart, but rejoined another team because he considers it one of his “favourite extracurricular things.” He told me about Never to Excel’s old rivalry with the Beavers, which allegedly ended in some fistfights. Even though he is no longer on Never to Excel, he still told me that “nobody likes the Beavers.” After a game, the Butts Wynders hurried to the pub to chat about the game and watch some more football.

BLFC, which is “rubbish, enthusiastic, and relaxed” according to Patrick, and “composed, informal, and process-driven” by Zac, seems to get “randomly rowdy.” At their game, I was taught that when someone full-body kicks your ankles it’s called a Brexit tackle, though I did not get to witness one. Patrick told me, “Some love to give the tackle but aren’t prepared to take it back.” Their sideline is giddy with their four fans, who cheer them on and bump to the music. After a game, the team regroups at someone's house for 45 minutes of watching Instagram reels and re-hashing the game; as Zac told me, “If you lose you have to make yourself feel better by talking about who you don’t like.” It speaks to BLFC’s enthusiasm that they almost went all season without a win last year, but luckily they changed that in the last game, and now they are doing well with a 6-1 win against St Randrews. 

Besides the Brexit tackle, I learned that all the Sunday League players have an aversion to wearing shin pads during their games. One spectator pointed it out to me, saying, “I was like, how do you not wear shin pads, but it’s gimpy if you do.” I wondered if it was a pride thing or a fashion statement — it seems it’s a combination of the two. When I asked Oumar about it he said simply, “Partly because they look stupid, partly because they’re inconvenient.” To really make sure I understood how silly it would be to wear shin pads to a Sunday League game, Patrick had to put it in plain terms: “It’s like wearing a mouth guard to play chess.”

The Sunday League seems like a miserable way to battle a hangover, but these guys stick to it for the sake of their team. Next Sunday, as you inevitably rot away in the library doing the 200-page reading you forgot about, take a break and wander down to the sports centre for a game. You will not regret it.

Image from @Sunday League