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Fever Pitch
 
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Fever Pitch (Paperback)
by Nick Hornby (Author)
3.9 out of 5 stars 33 customer reviews (33 customer reviews)
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From Amazon.co.uk
Fever Pitch is both an autobiography and a footballing bible rolled into one. Nick Hornby pinpoints 1968 as his formative year--the year he turned 11, the year his parents separated, and the year his father first took him to watch Arsenal play. The author quickly moved "way beyond fandom" into an extreme obsession that has dominated his life, loves, and relationships. His father had initially hoped that Saturday afternoon matches would draw the two closer together, but instead Hornby became completely besotted with the game at the expense of any conversation: "Football may have provided us with a new medium through which we could communicate, but that was not to say that we used it, or what we chose to say was necessarily positive." Girlfriends also played second fiddle to one ball and 11 men. He fantasises that even if a girlfriend "went into labour at an impossible moment" he would not be able to help out until after the final whistle. Fever Pitch is not a typical memoir--there are no chapters, just a series of match reports falling into three time frames (childhood, young adulthood, manhood). While watching the May 2, 1972, Reading v Arsenal match, it became embarrassingly obvious to the then 15-year-old that his white, suburban, middle-class roots made him a wimp with no sense of identity: "Yorkshire men, Lancastrians, Scots, the Irish, blacks, the rich, the poor, even Americans and Australians have something they can sit in pubs and bars and weep about." But a boy from Maidenhead could only dream of coming from a place with "its own tube station and West Indian community and terrible, insoluble social problems." Fever Pitch reveals the very special intricacies of British football, which readers new to the game will find astonishing, and which Hornby presents with remarkable humour and honesty--the "unique" chants sung at matches, the cold rain- soaked terraces, giant cans of warm beer, the trains known as football specials carrying fans to and from matches in prison-like conditions, bottles smashing on the tracks, thousands of police officers waiting in anticipation for the cargo of hooligans. The sport and one team in particular have crept into every aspect of Hornby's life--making him see the world through Arsenal-tinted spectacles. --Naomi Gesinger

Amazon.co.uk Review
Fever Pitch is both an autobiography and a footballing bible rolled into one. Nick Hornby pinpoints 1968 as his formative year--the year he turned 11, the year his parents separated, and the year his father first took him to watch Arsenal play. The author quickly moved "way beyond fandom" into an extreme obsession that has dominated his life, loves, and relationships. His father had initially hoped that Saturday afternoon matches would draw the two closer together, but instead Hornby became completely besotted with the game at the expense of any conversation: "Football may have provided us with a new medium through which we could communicate, but that was not to say that we used it, or what we chose to say was necessarily positive." Girlfriends also played second fiddle to one ball and 11 men. He fantasises that even if a girlfriend "went into labour at an impossible moment" he would not be able to help out until after the final whistle. Fever Pitch is not a typical memoir--there are no chapters, just a series of match reports falling into three time frames (childhood, young adulthood, manhood). While watching the May 2, 1972, Reading v Arsenal match, it became embarrassingly obvious to the then 15-year-old that his white, suburban, middle-class roots made him a wimp with no sense of identity: "Yorkshire men, Lancastrians, Scots, the Irish, blacks, the rich, the poor, even Americans and Australians have something they can sit in pubs and bars and weep about." But a boy from Maidenhead could only dream of coming from a place with "its own tube station and West Indian community and terrible, insoluble social problems." Fever Pitch reveals the very special intricacies of British football, which readers new to the game will find astonishing, and which Hornby presents with remarkable humour and honesty--the "unique" chants sung at matches, the cold rain- soaked terraces, giant cans of warm beer, the trains known as football specials carrying fans to and from matches in prison-like conditions, bottles smashing on the tracks, thousands of police officers waiting in anticipation for the cargo of hooligans. The sport and one team in particular have crept into every aspect of Hornby's life--making him see the world through Arsenal-tinted spectacles. --Naomi Gesinger --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.

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Customer Reviews
33 Reviews
5 star: 39%  (13)
4 star: 33%  (11)
3 star: 12%  (4)
2 star: 6%  (2)
1 star: 9%  (3)
 
 
 
 
 
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7 of 7 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars One of the most 'important' books published in the 1990's, 27 Nov 2000
By A Customer
Regardless of any literary merit, in terms of its effect on British society this book has to be considered one of the most important books published in recent years. It's hard to remember now that when Hornby was writing this book, football fans were considered to be little more than potential hooligans, or the 'belching sub-humanity' portrayed in Bill Bruford's book 'Among the Thugs'.

'Fever Pitch' made it possible for the vast majority of 'normal' people who watch football, to 'come out of the closet'. Without that, none of the huge changes that have taken place in the way the game is perceived and consumed (for good and bad) would have taken place.

But given all that, what is 'Fever Pith' actually like to read? It's a fine book, packed with accurate observations about not only football, but also life in general. No-one could possibly not relate to the young Hornby's first intimations of human mortality (on seeing the victim of a heart attack, immediately after a Crystal Palace game,) his consideration of the basic human need for quasi-religous rituals which one hopes will influence events totally out of one's control, or the terrible Parable of Gus Caeser. Hornby's articulate prose style, full of self-effacing humour, makes every page a delight to read.

I've heard it said that even people without any knowledge of or interest in football can enjoy this book. My own experience is, however, that this is not the case. Another problem for potential readers is that, with the passage of time, even football fans will find it difficult to remember many of the key events (particularly the momentous 1988/89 season) around which the book is based. Finally, as someone who is not an Arsenal fan, I found Hornby's continual putting-down of his team ("I must be mad to support this lot" etc.) a little annoying. 95% of football fans would give almost anything for their team to be as successful as Arsenal.

Notwithstanding these points, I cannot recommend this book more highly. As the book says, football fans are not emotionally-retarded idiots. In their own way, they understand certain essential truths and experience emotions the rest of the world can have no idea of.

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5 of 5 people found the following review helpful:
3.0 out of 5 stars The Pandora's box was open...., 12 Sep 2007
This was it, the book that opened up the floodgates for "footie" to become the supposed obsession of the chattering classes. All over Hampstead, Notting Hill and Camden middle-class, Grammar-school educated chaps like Nick Hornby were suddenly given wings, free to fly everywhere expressing the love for "the beautiful game" that previously had dare not speak its name for fear of inspiring dinner-party sneers. The media was thus annoyingly overrun by David Baddiel types who previously had not given a damn about football. What had previously been a sport for the genuine working class, lower middle class office workers and a few crazed public school eccentric maths masters was depressingly hijacked by Jeremys, Edmunds, Rachels and Sophies everywhere. This was all down to Nick Hornby and his accursed book.

Not that it is bad first offering from a writer who has now become the virtual personification of the North London "metrosexual" new man, dressed in his shoe-style Doc Martens and skinny black jeans, his prematurely balding hair close shaven to avoid a "comb-over" and just as happy to change nappies as he is to sink a pint of best. It is just so indulgent, so self-obsessed, so (at times) smug. It is as if Hornby is constantly telling his audience "look at me, I'm educated, middle-class, articulate, literate, yet my passion is football - how cool is THAT ?".

Many of Hornby's reminiscences are bona fide and certainly strike a chord with someone such as myself who is of exactly the same generation and background. However, it is extremely irritating to read of Hornby's self-glorified schoolboy/student encounters with a seeming string of fragrant home counties university girls. Again, it is a ham-fisted way of Hornby saying that not only was he the salt of the earth but he couldn't half pull posh totty as well. Yes, Nick, we know you've had a few girlfriends, most of us have, but really, we're not actually interested in "Carol Blackburn" or whether or not she let you under her cream cashmere sweater.

By all means read this book, as it is socially, culturally and chronologically very important, but, please, do not bestow it with a classic status it simply does not deserve.
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