I was persuaded this week to play Monopoly for the first time in decades, my four and nine year old boys calling my bluff when I insisted they put down the Xbox. Out from beneath the bunk bed came the dusty Birmingham edition for us to spread out upon the living room floor.
The Birmingham edition by definition contains properties from my beloved city and not the smug London capital, Hurst Street is Mayfair and Cannon Hill Park is Old Kent Road. Mercifully there's no St. Andrew's, but, and here's where the problems began, there is a Hawthorns, home of the despicable West Bromwich Albion. By rights this dump should be Old Kent Road and has no right whatsoever to reside on the stretch of pink properties just after Jail corner, but at least it was in a cheaper plot than Villa's ground. The three of us circled the board a few times, Freddie buying up the coveted Villa Park and then purchasing the second of the three pink properties, its name I forget, he now needed just The Hawthorns for the full set.
I'd accumulated a few properties, nothing fancy, the only generous income I seemed to be collecting was the booty when landing on Free Parking (do you chuck the fine money in the middle as well?)I had a few quid handy and needed to get more of a toehold on the game so when I landed on The Hawthorns my immediate reaction was to buy it and prevent Freddie from compiling a full set, this compulsion did not last long. Despite this being a modest, inconsequential board game with two young sons, I simply could not bring myself to buy The Hawthorns. Further, I couldn't bring myself even to place my piece (I had the dog) upon the property, not even to cock it's leg. Had it been any other property I'd have snaffled it then extorted a high price from Freddie so he could make up his set but I could not reduce myself to buying the damned place so I placed my dog on the carpet adjacent to that part of the board.
The game went on and Freddie duly completed his pink set, Ernie bought The Hawthorns then sold it to Fred for a song. My cash was running thin as Freddie lined up a row of houses on his strip, not before I'd landed on Villa Park a couple of times and happily paid him my rent, indeed I offered to pay triple out of respect for the property. But then it happened. Rolling a double three, I advanced from Corporation Street towards The Hawthorns and once again couldn't bring myself to place the dog on it. Freddie and Ernie remained confused at my reticence, I'd not explained my reasoning as yet, but this time they demanded an explanation. I squirmed a little before folding my arms and giving them the full unadulterated explanation as to why I was not prepared to go anywhere near that part of the board in a month of Sundays. I referred them to the ramshackled construction of the ground, it's cheap look and rotten stench, the small time nature of the club which it hosted and the revulsion I had for its supporters. They didn't seem to understand so I just kept ploughing on until finally they asked me to stop.
Freddie demanded more money from me than I possessed in order to pay my fine for landing on his flaming Hawthorns, he had three houses on it. I told him to bog off when he suggested I mortgage properties to raise the cash and called time on the game there and then. They returned to their Xbox and I retired to bed with a cold flannel upon my forehead. Not model fathering behaviour but I'd do it again, these children need to learn standards and morals, The Hawthorns is a no go area for any self respecting Russon male.
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