I found out very early in my career that being ready to talk about sport at any moment is an essential skill in the workplace.

 

I discovered this at a welcome lunch for new graduates at the firm that gave me my first real job. There were 12 of us pimply 20-somethings fresh out of college in uncomfortable new suits and ties, accompanied by 12 senior executives who had been somehow roped into their role as welcoming committee. We all sat around a beautifully laid out table on the top floor of the building and carefully sipped our wine trying to politely make conversation.

 

Fifteen or so minutes into the event, one of the senior executives turned to me and asked: "How do you think the Blues will go this weekend?"

The entire room, having temporarily run out of pleasant chit chat turned to hear my response.

I was in big trouble. I wasn't being asked this question to test me. Quite the contrary, I was being asked to talk about a subject that practically any young man would find easy. The fair, but in my case, incorrect assumption was that I would be immediately put at ease by the shift from talk of business to sport. The problem was that I really didn't know who the Blues were.

If it were not for the 23 people staring at me, the imposing surroundings and the general feeling of nervousness about this lunch that I had been struggling with for most of the day, I might have come up with a better answer. All I could muster though was: "Umm, I don't follow the Blues, really."

This feeble response had a clear and noticeable effect on my social position at the firm. Regardless of how good I was at my job, my ability to score positions on interesting deals was hampered by my reputation as some sort of weirdo who didn't like sports. It took six months of reading about every conceivable competition or game and injecting myself into every discussion for me to recover.

What I should have said was "Should be a good game". It would not have been necessary to know anything about the sport or the team or even what sport we were talking about for me to make such a remark.

Having learnt this important skill, of being able to bluff my way through conversations about sports I have no interest in, I have never again faced the raised eyebrows of a die-hard fan discovering to his disbelief that there is someone not interested in what he is interested in. Because when it comes to sport, belief in the importance and appeal of a particular discipline can approach levels of religious fervour.

This is no more evident than in the case of soccer. Failing to take an interest in the particular fascination of a fundamentalist soccer hooligan, for example, can result not only in social rejection but can also present a real chance of physical injury.

I don't expect to encounter any soccer hooligans around the workplace, but over the next month I will be pretending to be interested in the sport quite regularly. Remarks I plan to make in respect of teams I know nothing about include: "I thought they played better in the second half", "I think they still have room to improve", or "Well, they're doing better than New Zealand".

I plan to enthusiastically laud the kicking ability of whichever good-looking South American teenage millionaire is getting the most attention. I will angrily express my disgust at the inevitable stumbling and childish overacting by soccer players trying to draw fouls. And I will of course pick Germany, Brazil or Argentina to win.

But what I won't do is let on that I don't turn into a football fan once every four years. I know the damage that would cause and I really can't afford to wait for the next World Cup to restore my reputation.