The two armies line up. They face each other. The objectives clear. Winning is the only outcome allowable. The battle rages on and on. Heroes fall, leave the battlefield, injured, disgraced, dishonoured. One side has the upper hand, but then the other retaliates. Legends are being born. Honour being fought for. Unbelievable riches lie at the journey’s end. But neither side can be moved. So each sides’ heroes take turns doing battle. First battle, he strikes and doesn’t miss a beat. Second battle: another killer blow. Each sides’ heroes battle like this going back and forth until, coming to the final few heroes, history is made. One hero falls, the other rises to the almighty occasion. Another hero steps forth to put the final nail in the coffin, the fatal wound, the final strike. Hearts pound, time slows, spectators in this great colloseum of war silent with anticipation. Time slows so that a tick seems an hour, a moment an eternity. Then the moment comes. Time quickens. Heartbeats rise. Breath held. An almighty cheer goes out. The final blow has been dealt. They are the victors. The spoils theirs. Their people honoured and vindicated. Celebrations continue for weeks, parades go through cities, towns, nations. They have won the battle, the war, the honour, the glory….. What’s the difference between war and football? Well ancient battle and football. The only difference? In war you can die. In football: pretty hard to die. But the honour the passion, the attributes, the status of the heroes, the honour, the spoils, everything is the same. The beautiful game or the Trojan War, identical. War is as thrilling as it was when Julius Caesar fought, when Napolean ruled, when King Richard the Lionheart. Hector vs Achilles or Lampard vs Neuer. A penalty shootout or heroes squaring off. The heroes battle til the end. And to the victor goes the spoils.