In a revelation that has sent shockwaves through the halls of both the Football Association and your local Wetherspoons, a team of historians with too much time on their hands has confirmed that the beautiful game was, in fact, introduced to Mexico not by conquistadors or British sailors, but by a ragtag bunch of Cornish miners who toiled in the earth and then kicked balls of leather across the dust.
Yes, dear reader, it appears that the Mexicans have been perfecting the art of football for centuries, thanks to salty, pasty-munching, tin-mining expats. The report, funded by the British Council and a suspicious amount of clotted cream, claims that in the 19th century, Cornishmen exported their peculiar brand of shamanic rituals involving a spherical object, losing naturally to any team with more than two functioning lungs.
One can only imagine the scene: a group of miners, fresh from a ten-hour shift underground, deciding to teach the locals a 'real sport' because who needs a siesta when you can kick a deflated pig bladder? The Mexicans, who had already invented a peculiar ball game using a hard rubber sphere and occasionally human skulls, presumably looked at the Cornishmen and thought, 'These beige oddities have truly lost their marbles.'
But the Brits, in their infinite wisdom, persisted. They established a 'Carn Brea Football Club' deep in the bowels of Pachuca, and thus, the world was gifted with El Tri. And can we claim any real credit? We gave them a sport that involves 22 men chasing a ball for 90 minutes, often resulting in tears and a drawn-out penalty shootout. They gave us tacos, mariachi bands, and the inimitable sight of a gigantic sombrero with 'Mexico' scrawled across it.
The historians' report has been met with the expected pomp. A government spokesperson, armed with a stiff upper lip and a union jack tie, said: 'This excellent news reinforces our historic role as the globe's sporting lubricant. We are immensely proud that our Cornish compatriots were able to distract the Mexicans from their advanced Aztec ball games with a simple leather sphere.'
The Mexicans, for their part, have reacted with a sort of dignified bemusement. One anthropologist suggested that the Aztecs might have invented a particularly gruesome form of football involving the decapitation of the losing team. By comparison, the Cornish version seemed positively pleasant, especially when lubricated with ale and pasties.
And so, we at the Thistlethwaite News Bureau salute the miners of Cornwall: those hardy, pasty-eating souls who, amidst the dust and grit of the underground revealed a truth that now resonates across international sport: that football is just as likely to be invented by someone who smells of tin and gin as by any gentleman in a suit. Truly, a proud day for Britain, or at least the south-western periphery.
Now if you'll excuse me, I need to find a decent pasty and a stiff drink. The world is absurd, and I must maintain my levels of saturation.
