The deafening blast of a goal horn shook the sticky floor of The Loose Moose in downtown Toronto, followed by the opening riffs of “The Hockey Song” blaring over the speakers.

Rowan winced. He was a long way from Manchester, and the FIFA World Cup was underway. Across the small high-top table sat Sylvain, an émigré from Quebec, wearing a vintage Montreal Canadiens jersey and a look of profound skepticism.

“There’s no hitting, the net is the size of a two-car garage door, and nobody has dropped their gloves!” Sylvain shouted. “And they’re running around on a giant lawn!

“I recognize why most of the world calls it football — it’s obvious. But why are the goalies dressed like a neon highlighter, and why hasn’t anyone been thrown into the boards yet?”

“There are no boards, Sylvain!” Rowan bellowed. “If you check a bloke over the white line, he rolls into the digital advertising hoardings.........

© Peterborough Examiner