After having spent much of the evenings this week watching late night footy or being out and about with the Molton Brown boys, I was actually quite knackered and I wasn’t really looking forward to last night’s match at Beautiful Downtown Bramall Lane.
By the way, I do recognise that despite being about football – the number one sport globally – this is still a bit of niche post for most readers, but MMIRIM, so I’m putting it here anyway.
But I watched, and thank [Deity] I did.
Grit, courage, effort, attitude, belief, damn hard work.
What a night.
There’s a thing that I have seen from watching almost several hours of football over the last n years, and that’s that the best teams somehow manage to grind a positive result out of games that they really shouldn’t be able to. And when you don’t play at your best, but you still manage to get a win: that’s the sign of a team that’s going places.
Me though, not so much. The adrenaline coursing through my veins meant that I didn’t get to sleep until about1:30, and amazingly – if anything – I’m more broken this morning than I was going into last night.
EDIT: Look, not everyone enjoyed it.
Here’s an excerpt from a Sunderland fans internet comment about the game:
“Shellshocked doesn’t go far enough to describe how I feel.
I feel utterly numb and inconsolable right now.
I feel like I ought to flog the cheap tat that is Sheffield hallmarked silver that’s in my collection to make a point. That place has always made vastly inferior crap anyway. I hate that village in Yorkshire. I hate everything about it.”
Mate. It was a 1-0 defeat.
Calm your tits, hold onto your silver collection, take a deep breath and try to enjoy your weekend.
Good luck with real life.
