There’s Absolutely Nothing That You Can Do…Well by Tom Beasley

I've written a lot about football in these pages before. Back in 2014, I wrote about the joy of Coventry City's return to what was then the Ricoh Arena and its impact on the people of the city. More recently, I've written about the play-off heartbreak against Luton Town and the truly remarkable FA Cup semi-final at Wembley. The season that has now ended was my first as a regular match-going fan – a season ticket holder in the East Stand. As I write this in the week of the play-off semi-finals, I have no idea how the season's grand finale played out – but I do know how important that football, win or lose, has been to me over the last year or so.

This column has become more personal in the last year than it has ever been since I first started it as a teenager. That's because, as a friend put it to me when I chatted to them the other day, a lot of life has happened to me in the last few months. Regular readers will recall that, in my last dispatch, I announced that my wife and I are expecting twins. By the time you read this, they may well have made their arrival into the world. But that's far from the only thing that has happened in my life of late.

Back in August, Coventry beat Oxford United 3-2 at the CBS Arena. It was a topsy-turvy game in which the Sky Blues scored a winning goal deep into stoppage time courtesy of some Haji Wright heroics. But the reason I shed a tear at each goal had little to do with sport and everything to do with what had happened just a week before, when I had received some truly devastating personal news. The cathartic roar of the CBS Arena was everything that I needed at that moment.

I never thought about football much in the context of mental health prior to this year. My season ticket purchase was driven more by a love of the sport and the team than a desire to save money on therapy, but the comforting craziness of the CBS Arena has been a constant companion in the turbulent last year of my life. The emotional outbursts and community spirit of the Sky Blue Army have helped to keep me on an even keel, regardless of the results achieved by Frank Lampard's side.

In April, Coventry beat West Bromwich Albion 2-0 at the CBS Arena, with Jack Rudoni and Matt Grimes getting the goals and propelling us towards the play-off places. But this time, most of my tears were reserved for half time. During a Matchday Memorial montage, the name “Steve Beasley” appeared on the screen underneath a smiling picture of my dad, who we lost at the end of March.

I always associate dad with football. He's the reason I have Soccer Saturday on the telly every weekend and the person who took me to Highfield Road for my first ever game – a 4-0 City win over Barnsley in 2002 – as well as a constant source of anecdotes about attending the FA Cup final in 1987. When he was first diagnosed with cancer two years ago, I vowed to myself that I would treat him to a hospitality ticket at the CBS when he was well enough. We never ended up going.

My motivation for bringing all of this up is to highlight something vital about football and, specifically, the live experience. There's a lot of talk about hooliganism and a certain ugly masculinity that can be present on the terraces but, for me, nothing has allowed me to express my emotions – whether positive or negative – this year more than screaming at the top of my voice at questionable offside decisions, last-gasp winners, and heart-breaking defeats.

This season, football has been far more than a game to me. And whatever has happened in the play-offs or will happen next season, I have to thank the team and the Sky Blue Army for being such an enormous part of my life this year. Here's to many more emotional renditions of We'll Live and Die in These Towns. It never gets old.

© 2025 Tom Beasley

“I am honoured to have been a part of Your Call throughout almost its entire history. Journalism has now been my full-time job for almost a decade, and that wouldn't have been possible without Lynne taking a chance on a slightly odd 14-year-old boy back in 2009 and giving him the freedom to write about more or less anything. This magazine and my column in it have been a part of so many formative experiences in my life and I can never thank the team enough for being the first step on a career pathway that has since seen me walk dozens of red carpets, interview some of my Hollywood heroes, and take a seat at the BAFTAs. None of that happens without a strange teenager writing to a burgeoning local magazine and receiving a warm reply bearing an opportunity and a blank canvas. So thank you Lynne and thank you, Your Call!"

Tom Beasley is a freelance film journalist, Rotten Tomatoes-approved critic and podcaster
now living in Coventry. He can be reached at tomjbeasley@gmail.com.