The first thing to understand is that it’s not “Football Players’ Wives,” which means that this is real football, played on a pitch, not a “field,” and no pads and helmets. Roit! (As for where the apostrophe went, only a wank would give a sod about that.) The second thing you should know is that, after two seasons, we’ve never seen a game — no playing except for a bit of practice now and then. What we do get to see are big sprawling McMansions with their rolling green lawns and blue swimming pools under those perpetually, accurately depicted, gray English skies.
That, and the lads’ bums in the shower room — more often than the ladies’ private areas, which might give you an idea who the series is aimed at, even if the birds are worth a whistle.
But let’s go back to the beginning. The first two seasons of Footballers Wives now make up two double-disc DVD sets, and the third is about to begin February 19 at 10 pm on BBC America (a Season 2 marathon runs from 10 am to 6 pm) . So you’ve got a bit of catching up to do. But it’s such a rich and moving tale — where to start?
Why not with that very first episode. The players are all working-class kids who’ve struck it rich, showing off all their toys but still swallowing half their consonants. So Ian Walmsley is thrilled that he’s just been called up to the Earls Park Football Club, and in our opening scene, he’s giving his daughter Holly a piggyback on one of those lawns in front of one of those swimming pools. He and his wife, Donna, have been together forever, and Donna’s hoping that now they’ve got some money, maybe they can look for little Daniel, whom they had to give up when she was only 13.
Meanwhile, in a McMansion across town, Kyle Pascoe and Chardonnay (real name: Carol or something) are getting ready to tie the knot, and it’s touching how much they’re in love. Chardonnay is some kind of model — it turns out, in fact, a kind of breast model, the way they have hand and feet models, apparently. And Kyle’s so in love with that sweet bird, he almost doesn’t care, except when he’s got to see their pending nuptials announced on page 3 next to a picture of the couple and one of Chardonnay showing all her assets under the headline “What a lovely pair!”
Meanwhile, over at the Turners’ house, wife Tanya has to hide another one of those pesky tabloids from hubby Jason. He’s the top scorer for Earls Park, but he’s a bit of a . . . lad. And since he’s 31, you have to wonder whether the Fleet Street boys have it right: “Is time running out for Jason Turner?”
