I grew up an incredibly anxious child, horribly shy and unable to make many friends beyond my small, established group. I’ve always watched movies but wasn’t overly invested from a young age. Also, I used to vehemently express my distaste for football. This all changed when my father bought us both season tickets for Brighton & Hove Albion when I was 11. I didn’t much like change or large crowds and, initially, was anxious at the idea of going.

And yet, I’ll never forget that game, not just because we conceded a heartbreaking 90th minute equaliser to draw 2 – 2 against Blackpool but because I was immediately, hopelessly hooked. For two hours I experienced a rollercoaster of emotions. While a football match is stressful, it’s also a joyous echo chamber of people that all want the same end result — a win. I was forever changed and 15 years later, at 26, I still have my season ticket.

My dad and I had a complicated relationship when I was growing up and fought a lot, but this was the turning point. It became a way of expressing emotion without having to say anything. When Brighton score a goal it’s one of the few times I hug him as we both jump up and down like idiots. I find family intimacy challenging and the euphoria of a stadium is always able to dissolve any invisible barriers my mind may build.

Movies are another important part of my life, and deliver a hit which is both different and similar. The importance of cinema was more of a gradual realisation. I fell in love with the form that was less immediate than football, as my tastes and knowledge expanded. I have learnt to appreciate certain techniques and directorial choices so much more now and I feel able to judge films on a wide variety of merits other than pure entertainment. But because every film is different in a more complex way to every football match, this process took more time.

Every film I see at the cinema makes me feel better – even the terrible ones. I used to think the cinema was a collective experience in my youth, and that going alone was almost an admission of loneliness. Now I actively prefer the solitude and not having to worry about whether the person I’m with is enjoying it. In a way you’re never really alone in a cinema anyway, with that strange physical and emotional proximity to strangers who you will never speak to or see again. The sweet spot of a few people dotted around or in special cases an entirely packed cinema gives me hope and joy – a shared experience without words.

I remember seeing Lee Chang-Dong’s *Burning, *an adaptation of a Haruki Murakami short story alone at the BFI Southbank and feeling mesmerised at the tiny ​“Studio” screen. While challengingly paced the film drifts like smoke to an inconclusive ending that stirred my soul. I was still adjusting to University and London at the time but there I felt cryogenically frozen in a state of joy. This is the exact same way I feel when Brighton win a match.

The one obvious similarity between a football fan and a true cinephile is the passion they inspire. A true cinephile will watch Jeanne Dielman and then* Fast & Furious: Hobbs and Shaw *the very next day. We go because it’s worth trudging through the tar to have just one moment in the oasis. In the same way the true football fan will turn up to Stoke in on a rainy Tuesday to watch their team play the bottom of the league side as well as Liverpool. No one goes to a football match knowing they’ll win every week, but we go anyway, because it’s worth the risk for that feeling if/​when it happens. The stereotypical cinephile might be a studious, academic who only watches ​’60s Polish-Hungarian cinema. The football fan, a lager drinking, beer bellied man with an England flag tattooed on his stomach. But beyond premonitions is the deeper shared desire for peace of mind.

Being fully present has lost its significance in the modern era and immersion is slowly eroding away in everyday life. Our brains are so often full of content and means for instant gratification, meaning we can never be fully present. Immersion however, is essential to mental clarity. Take this quote below pulled from Errolie Sermaine’s article from London School of Counselling titled *Understanding the mental health benefits of watching matches. *​“This emotional engagement creates a sense of being alive and fully present, offering a temporary respite from personal worries and stresses. The intense focus … allows … to momentarily forget their personal worries, mindfully immersing themselves in the action which can be refreshing and rejuvenating, helping to alleviate stress and anxiety.”

Place this next to a quote conducted by researchers from UCL’s department of Experimental Psychology and Vue Entertainment *Why watching a movie could improve mental wellbeing *and a pattern is formed. ​“This emotional engagement creates a sense of being alive and fully present, offering a temporary respite from personal worries and stresses. The intense focus … allows … to momentarily forget their personal worries, mindfully immersing themselves in the action which can be refreshing and rejuvenating, helping to alleviate stress and anxiety.”

Taking away any mention of the cinema or football related words shows the stark similarities between the findings — escapism. The psychological benefits of this dedication to a passion, in the particular space of a stadium or a cinema are an under-appreciated stress relief. Escapism is important for any human being. The toll of life can get too much and we all need to forget about a horror day at work or an argument with someone close.

Of course these two loves are very personal in the way that love can only be. I’m not trying to convince anyone to become a movie or football fan. But what I do believe is that finding space for immersion and allowing something outside of you in, is the most important thing any of us can do for our minds. I am no longer an anxious over-thinker – well not always – and I genuinely attribute much of that to my religious support for Brighton and outrageously regular excursions to the cinema. For two hours I leave my phone in my pocket and empty my brain of life’s noise and I couldn’t be happier. If this were a film we’d be at the giddying heights of the milkshake scene in There Will Be Blood and if it was a football match a last minute winner would be hitting the back of the net. Long live cinema and up the Albion!