The match against West Bromwich Albion has been billed on the official website as the biggest fixture to hit St Andrew’s in six years. A touch precise methinks. Every goddamn game is big at the moment. I just wish someone would tell the players.
‘Boro are poodle. We are just poodler. There, I just made a word up. I might make one up every week and see if I can gain notoriety by inventing new words rather than delaying the naming of a substitution. Oh not that one again! It’s ok we won’t even go there.
I tried to play with fate by demanding at least a point at the Riverside but unfortunately fate saw straight through me and gave us what we normally get on our away trips. Sweet naff all. Did everyone enjoy their long drive to the nuclear centre of the country? Nowt better to do on a Saturday afternoon eh?
Not much point in going over our missed chances nor their goal scored by that mercurial (ha!) antipodean lard arse Verruca. He’s only undone us twice this season. Mind you I think Stephen Hawkins could have scored against us in the home fixture.
Some folk have claimed that as the weeks have gone by these articles have slowly drifted into a melancholy depression. I would love to dispute that and argue fervently that my passion and Dunkirk spirit is alive and very much kicking. Lord knows I would love to argue that. The truth is that the fixture list hung so lovingly above my desk is running out of place names.
Time to shake yourself out of your coma Daz, the team needs you. This piss poor season ain’t over yet, by God no. As long as there’s hope and a glimmer of a chance I will be there standing proud in my Blues shirt, beating my chest and singing Keep Right On with all the gusto of a conquering Emperor. They can send who they like, I don’t care, Chelsea, Tottingham, Welshburn, bring ‘em on. Next. How was that for a stirring of the cockles?
The truth is that for the majority of us we’ve been here before. Relegation isn’t the end of the world. I know Saturday afternoon (or Monday night/ Thursday evening/ Sunday afternoon etc) is what we look forward to every week and without our team some of us wouldn’t have much else to occupy us but it is only a game. Shankly claimed it was more important than life or death. He was wrong. I know what he meant but he was wrong.
We sing that we’ll go down together, come back up, win the cup and for some bizarre reason kick hell out of the Villa. I guess it rhymed nicely when the first person sang it and it suited our siege mentality. The facts are though that we have never won The Cup. We’ve won a cup, but not The Cup.
There has been a big debate over whether fans would prefer to win the FA Cup and be relegated or stay up in the Premiership. It’s a damn fine question. I could easily fall into either camp. I understand the pros and cons on both sides. Of course in the modern consumer driven world I want both. I know you will accuse me of getting splinters on the fence but I would take either scenario. What I won’t take is neither!
And so our season boils down to these last few games. No comfortable mid table mediocrity. Death or dishonour. Well not death, that would be pandering to Shankly. The gap between Blues and Albion is ninety minutes. If we bridge the gap then suddenly we are in the pack (of two?) and can see an escape route. If the gap widens we may as well pack all our troubles in our old kit bag and get a ground guide for next season in the Championship.
Come on Blues. We are not asking for much. Three little points, a win over Liverpool and a surge into safety. And then world peace!
Keep right on. It’s all we know.