The Arsenal teddy bear copped it.
Many years ago somebody bought me an Arsenal teddy bear as
a joke (it is supposed to be durable). I was going to chuck it (actually put it
in the shredder) then I thought, like a
stress ball, I’ll keep it and if I should feel down, depressed or even mad,
then I would take it out and beat the seven bells of shite out of it (at the
moment it looks like… well… it’s mutilated). So when I got home, after the
game, I went to where I keep it (at the back of the toilet… an appropriate
place I thought)… I was angry and
frustrated… and treated it to a bit of Tottenham stress therapy.
“Where are you Arsehole bear…” as I named it “…I am taking you out
for a few hours?” (any psychiatrist reading this will have a field day). The
Mutilated bear was cowering (really!), I took it out and [censored… as it is
too brutal to share]… just let us say that it was a torso when I finished with
it. But I do stitch it back together for future use when I am in a more calmer
mode (is there a law against cruelty to Arse-wipes?). But I didn’t feel any
better (that will have to wait until the team gets revenge).
A Chelsea win, an
Inter Milan win, and we were third. So before the match, I felt high and
thought we could get the goals that would sink the toilet drain pluggers. You
could sense that particular moment, that outcome… the feeling you are nearer to
the peak of ecstasy.
The morning of
the match: our breakfast that day – to me – was a warrior’s breakfast (egg,
bacon, tomatoes, sausages and… actually, no… muesli… maybe that was where I
went wrong?). I then puffed myself up and was ready to go. The coach ride was a
warriors ride, and we were there to do battle. Oh, we laughed… their reign of
18 winning matches was coming to an end, we sung (ok, only I did, and to
myself).
They got the
first goal, a penalty. Twenty minutes later we equalised (all good so far),
then we went ahead with a Kane penalty. We sung, danced and clapped each other
on the back. Players walked off proud, the fans applauded, and we were in high
spirits… then the second half came; that buggered our joys and expectations up.
Where is Teddy arse-wipe when you need it! (Oh, at home).
It didn’t get any
better, things didn’t turn around… but we did see Vertonghen get sent off in
the 85th minute to add insult to injury. What the fuuuu…? What just
happened? By then the Spurs supporters were starting to march out in a huff
(and who could blame them?).
Instead of
getting a lift home I made my way to the pub to drown my sorrows.
To rub salt into
the wound Chelsea beat Fulham (2-0), Liverpool beat – just – Everton, while
City carried on marching unmolested.
We started the
day in third place, ended it in 5th place. City and Liverpool are
still both undefeated. As things stand, it will be those two slogging it out
for the Premier League trophy. Chelsea and Arsenal are fighting for third and
fourth place, while we are trying to stick our heads over the stockade, looking
at all that glitters for Christmas (and dreaming, as we dream every year).
What now? Well,
we face managerless Southampton this Wednesday, then Leicester City away and a
quick trip to Barcelona to get a bit of dignity out of the Champions League. A
quick return to Premier football and hey-presto… we are top(keep dreaming!)… Well, that is my
Christmas wish. To end this year in a fighting position, on all fronts; that is
both cups - ok, FA Cup is in January -, Champion’ League and Premier League ( I
said… keep dreaming!). Now, where is that arse-wipe… or better still… where is
that therapist?
Don Scully
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