It all began with Lajos Detari.
For those of you instantly googling the name, Lajos Detari was a Hungarian midfielder whose popularity was it its not so dizzying height in the mid-80s. He played across central and eastern Europe and even won national Player Of The Year awards, thanks mainly to single-handedly leading Eintracht Frankfurt to the German Cup in 1988.
But it was in 1986 that Detari first came to my attention, and it was courtesy of my father. Hungary had qualified for the World Cup in Mexico and my Dad saw Hungary as dark horse contenders for the biggest football tournament on the planet.
In the weeks leading up to the Finals he would happily tell anyone who would listen to forget their Maradonas, their Platinis and their Zicos - Detari was the name that would be on everybody's lips once the tournament got underway.
Of course, he was wrong. Hungary were thumped 3-0 by Platini's France and Detari only really turned up in the final group game, scoring against Canada after both teams had been comfortably eliminated. But it was the value my father placed in being able to talk about someone that others had little knowledge of. This trivia was actually important to him; it made him feel knowledgeable, even if the knowledge had no real value.
That stuck with me instantly and the '86 World Cup became my specialist subject. I watched every second, memorised every result and scorer, and then used the information I gathered to muscle in on football conversations the next day. This knowledge was useful to a spindly and short 10 year old with a dream of being strong and fit enough to play for the first team. Knowing who scored all nine of the penalties in that tumultuous shoot-out between Brazil and France in the Quarter Finals meant I could befriend the first team, bringing me one step closer to actually being picked!
Of course, it would never impress girls, or teachers, or anyone who really mattered, but I didn't care - I was hooked. Here was something that won respect amongst those around me - a knowledge of football beyond the realm of the common schoolkid - and that's what I hope to bring to this blog.
With this in mind I will be amazed if anyone reads it, but I don't really care. I'll get a massive kick out of writing it and, in doing so, it will be something that always reminds me of my Dad - who is hopefully busy watching George Best playing three and in with Lev Yashin and Ferenc Puskas.
