So there I was walking the dog, pleased to be in the country and having no need to worry about picking up any resulting dog-poo, when I had the strangest thought. It suddenly occurred to me that I felt sorry for Manure fans.
Something stopped me dead in my tracks. The dog had find his spot and was pulling the lead to have his doggie-squat. Maybe that was the connection but what a bizarre thought! How can you feel sorry for them, aren't they top of the table or something? Don't they win games every week? Don't they actually score goals now and again to keep the fans happy? And you feel sorry for them? I forced myself to reconsider, the dog eyeing me curiously - but no, I was right all along, I feel sorry for them.
They live a false empty existence, winning, winning and then winning again. How real is that? And the boredom!
Something stopped me dead in my tracks. The dog had find his spot and was pulling the lead to have his doggie-squat. Maybe that was the connection but what a bizarre thought! How can you feel sorry for them, aren't they top of the table or something? Don't they win games every week? Don't they actually score goals now and again to keep the fans happy? And you feel sorry for them? I forced myself to reconsider, the dog eyeing me curiously - but no, I was right all along, I feel sorry for them.
They live a false empty existence, winning, winning and then winning again. How real is that? And the boredom!
"How was it dear?"
"Oh, 4-0, sweet............... Got any tea?
And what do they talk about? "Yeh, you remember when we won that cup and the League year after year in a row."
And what do they talk about? "Yeh, you remember when we won that cup and the League year after year in a row."
"Oh, yeh and beating that german team. And then winning everything that year. Yeh, how great was that."
What sort of life is that. No ribbing from your mates, no consolation beers. No debates about the manager, the team and being forever positive. Just a social outcast wearing a northern tinge of red and white. And have you read the Previews?
What sort of life is that. No ribbing from your mates, no consolation beers. No debates about the manager, the team and being forever positive. Just a social outcast wearing a northern tinge of red and white. And have you read the Previews?
"Saturday we welcome X from London, can´t remember their name but as we´re beaten them 100 times in the last 5 years, without a doubt it´ll be another win."
How boring is that. Just an endless wave of the same, week after week. I bet if it were analised they'd top the suicide lists.
Life's tough. Life's a bitch and then you die. Football is supposed to be like life, ask Platini. On the other hand we Addicks are lucky ( trust me) – our team tells us about having character, keeping your chin up, taking any s**t that comes our way. It don't give us illusions, don't set us up as fools. We know they're going to lose so what the hell. Life goes on.
Meanwhile the dog had finished his business and tired of the bullshit was pulling on the lead - he wanted to go home.
1 comment:
as you said, Chin up....
All of them ;-)
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