Even so. Transfer window's not going well for me. I was hoping to sign a few bits and bobs of shopping, like BOB milk and maybe some oven chips. But I'm forced to stick with my current squad of UHT emergency milk and, well. Lunch a la iffits today. (If it's in the fridge, it's lunch. Ho fucking ho.)
As for footy - I dream about it. I dream about going back to Farrar Road and watching games. Literally waking up in that split-second thinking, ah great, can't wait. But then the crushing realisation that it's never going to happen again.
Last night's premonition was this: City will lose 1-0 at home to Holyhead, and will have two goals disallowed by dodgy refereeing. I will watch from outside the ground cos of the boycott. And the pitch will look like shit.
It was all very real, and all very strange, and all very disappointingly banal. That's the scariest thing, I think.
In 'real' life, or what purports to stand in for it at this present, confused, crap-eating moment, the former club are preparing for a Welsh Cup tie against Caernarfon in a couple of weeks. A plum draw, objectively, under proper circumstances. But it's at home, so:
* The fans are divided. Many are going, because, fuck, you can't be outnumbered by the Cofis can you? I completely empathise with this point of view. Even in a NWCFA Cup Final about five years ago when they beat our Under 19s on pens, it hurt to see them win. And even though our Under 19s could have easily won it against their best team, it still hurt.
* Many fans are going to descend on Bangor from far and wide to watch the game, sing their hearts out, drink and be together. But they're not going to watch it at Nantporth. Nope. The evening game will see about 100? 200? 50? watch it live in local pubs less than a mile from the actual event. Think about it. That is mental isn't it. But I completely agree with this and were it not for the fact I'm working, I think I'd be there too. Insanity.
For the first time ever - and I mean, since organised, FA-coded football started in the 1860s - the Cofis are in a higher league than Bangor. Not because they're better on the pitch. They did earn their promotion, on the pitch, but let's not forget that City finished second in 2017-18, and reached the Welsh Cup semi-final, and were looking at Europe and the Irn Bru Cup, until this happened.
And that hurts most of all. I am a man without a team. And I'm getting fucking sad and sick of it.
P.S. - I've realised that this season I have actually been following a team, kind of, specifically on the way to and from work on the bus. They're not even a real team, and the broadcasts are often on the edge of stereotype and too-clever derivative tropes, but nonetheless it's hours spent with footy that I've gone back to for my fix.
If you want to know what that minuscule and somewhat unsatisfying pleasure really feels like to someone trying their best to get by without a team, this is it. Selah.
Trotters up, folks.
13.04 EDIT: Apparently a secretary is coming in to replace the one leaving (the one who started all this mess); and a director has resigned 'for personal reasons'.
To which I say:
No comments:
Post a Comment