A loose end

There is a singular quality to the frustration you feel when a match is called off. Although a boring 0-0 is very frustrating or drawing 3-3 after leading 3-0 is frustrating to the max, at least you’ve seen a match, at least you will have taken part in a conversation.

When the match is called off you’re left in isolation, alienated from your fellows, alone with your thoughts. Home matches are the worst ones to be called off, at least if you’re on the way to an away match when it’s called off you can have a few drinks and make the best of a bad situation.

It was 11 o’clock when I received the dreaded text; for the second time in 10 days our match was off. What does one do in this case?

I had to think. Do I watch football focus (A.K.A., Lawro and his fabulous Wayne impression, not!!! )? Nope. Do I go to another match in the vicinity? It was raining and I didn’t fancy adding to the developing cold. Luckily The Sting was on ITV, choice made. At least now I could also trudge around town looking for presents. Perhaps I may even catch the second half of a match on one of those foreign TV channels, or at least Jeff and the boys.

The end result; Wet Jeans, no presents and no chance of hearing Jeff and the boys. That 0-0 sounds like Ambrosia.