Goalie Wars is absolutely fantastic - we need to bring it to England immediately

The notion of a ‘good’ war is fundamentally oxymoronic. There can be ‘just’ wars, and perhaps even ‘noble’ ones, but by its very definition, armed conflict brings with it tragedy, disorder, and an abandonment of the decency on which humanity anchors itself. As such, instances of ‘good’ wars are few and far between. But they do exist.

Take, for example, Robot Wars, the only societal arena in which it is acceptable to strap an ice pick to a slow cooker in the name of primetime entertainment. Or Star Wars, George Lucas’ campy intergalactic soap opera about the perils of trade blockades and accidental near-incest. And then, of course, there is Goalie Wars.

Now, when I look at North America’s approximation of football and footballing culture, there isn’t a great deal that I care for. I’m not keen on the chants that feel as if they are written by mild-mannered summer camp counsellors. I’m not keen on the tendency to sell the naming rights of every set-piece to some unwieldy conglomerate or other, or the propensity for hawking thimbles of Bud Light at the price point of a second-hand people carrier. I’m not even keen on the name. ‘Soccer’... what even is that?

But one thing that our cousins across the pond absolutely do get right, and one thing we should unequivocally be stealing from them as soon as humanly possible in much the same way that they have taken Cat Deeley from us, is Goalie Wars; this daft little duel between a pair of grown men in padded gloves.

Initially a brain child of the MLS, the premise is simple enough; two sets of goalposts are erected 30 yards apart, and two goalkeepers take it in turns to throw, bowl, punt, or kick balls at each other. A shot has to be taken every six seconds, matches last for a total of four minutes with a 60 second break at the halfway point, and the winner is the stopper who has put the most efforts past their opposite number by the time the caw of the concluding klaxon sounds. It is, and I say this earnestly, ceaselessly entertaining.

Goalie Wars is like the classic Vine compilation of competitive football; a concentrated, moreish, synapse-scorcher that never allows the rolling fog of boredom to settle on the shorelines of your rankled brain. It is shorn of all blubber, served up in a handy, thrilling capsule for repeated mass consumption, and whittles itself into an addiction in the same way that a freshly-opened Toblerone might.

The further I burrow down into the rabbit-hole of this Yank curiosity, the more it reminds me of Homer Simpson’s pitch to improve Poochie’s popularity on The Itchy and Scratchy Show; whenever Goalie Wars is not on my screen, all I find myself asking is, ‘Where is Goalie Wars?’.

To that end, I don’t particularly care as to what purpose it serves. Use it has half-time entertainment. Introduce it as a replacement for the antiquated lottery of penalty shootouts. Hell, form an international governing body and have it stapled onto the Olympics in time for Paris next year. I really don’t mind, just do something with it.

You see, Goalie Wars is pure, unfiltered, solid gold - of that I am irrefutably convinced. The sooner it makes its way across the Atlantic, the sooner we can all know the true meaning of unadulterated joy.