I’m worried about Coronavirus, not catching it, I ain’t bothered about that, the odds on catching and then dying from it are greater than winning the lottery, and I can’t win that, but how am I going to cope with matches being played behind closed doors? Not bothered about claiming compensation due to not being able to use my season ticket, or having extra discount on next season’s by way of apology, I just want to know how I’m supposed to mentally cope with not having something to look forward to on a Saturday. In the close season, I’ve cricket I can go and watch, long as it’s not raining of course, and once the fixtures come out, I can start planning, but football behind closed doors would be devastating for the likes of us whose lives revolve going to matches. I watch football on the TV obviously, but it’s nowhere near the same, going to a game involves so much more, it’s one day a week where I can recharge my mind, and so, get through another 6 days of mundane existence. I’m not being serious obviously, but the paranoid hysteria that is surrounding it all, is pretty ridiculous, there’s greater chance of dying in a car crash than there is from dying from Coronavirus, but panic has set in, and instead of just being sensibly hygienic, we’ll have to adhere to whatever silly contingency measures are put in place. I wonder what will happen once we hit hayfever season? I hit the Welly, before we’re not allowed to congregate in pubs anymore, and joined Daryl and Pete, who will become strangers once the ban comes into affect. Two more potential strangers came in, in Steve and Mikey, Steve who has recently turned 70 and apparently more at risk, will be the first to be banned from going out of the house according to ‘experts’, the fact that he’s a lot more healthier than I am, almost 20 years his junior, and probably a lot healthier than some of the ale trailers that are are so much younger than me, is beside the point. Paul and Jackie, a couple who will become strangers, took it upon themselves to ignore the advice of keeping away from other people, and recklessly joined us. Plans were made for the Baggies game, but 7 days is a long time in football, and life is shortening by the second, we can only hope we have the strength to make it. We moved on to The Colemore before they’ve daubed a big white ‘X’ on the place, the ‘new place’ smell is starting to wear off, replaced by a greater range of guest ales. I’m really growing to like the pub, it really has been beautifully done. A pint later, and it was off to the Head of Steam, Liverpool were on the Telly, so the obligatory semi circle of plastics surrounded the big screen, they went strangely quiet once me and Steve started mentioning about actually going to games, loud enough for them to hear, especially as Liverpool were playing at home, and there wasn’t an excuse for not being at the game.
“A visit to the Natural History section in the shop behind would be a good idea for this lot”
The manic street preachers were out in force on New Street, not the band or the station, religious freaks who haven’t discovered that God doesn’t exist, good luck to em, it’ll come as a bit of a shock, once the virus has struck em down. Mikey was still getting it in the neck for relinquishing control of the table him and Spoons were at in the HOS, when we entered Kilda, thankfully for all involved, with no Sky Sports for the ‘plastics’ to watch Liverpool, it was easier to secure a table, a ginger snap tasting beer took my interest and danced around my tastebuds, as I caught up with Blues Paul’s health. He’s still having to be careful with physical exertion, so competing in the next couple of Olympics looks doubtful, but the complexion is more of a pinkish hue these days, so he’s heading in the right direction, just not up the steep hills and mountains, he used to enjoy to walk up yet. I only had 2 thirds of the ginger snap laced beer, I wish I’d have had a pint. We moved on to Bob’s, happily missing out on Digbrew, as after the initial excitement of a new brewery has dissipated, the beer hasn’t improved, particularly the cask side of the business, whereas Bob’s is starting to work its way into a ‘go to’ place on the home game itinerary, Ade was in there when we got there. The programmes had sold out when I got to the ground, and Dave Thomas was packing up, but I managed to buy a MIB off him, before getting in the ground.
I missed the first goal, and what turned out to be our only goal, because I was having a pi…., I was relieving myself in the toilets. It was Scott Hogan’s 7th for Blues, exactly the same as he’s scored for them lot down the road from me, but in just a smidgen of the games. If it hadn’t have been for Clive and his gang, I would’ve thought I’d got the row where I sit wrong, as Steph and her little crew were conspicuous in their absence, deeply concerned about Seeley, the only thing that could explain the empty void. I text Steph, I was relieved to read that everything was found to be ok, nothing to worry about. Hogan, however, could and should’ve made it two, surpassing his tally for them lot, I’m not saying I would have buried the chance that fell to him, but I would have found it extremely difficult to miss. When your team’s in the lead, you tend to forgive discrepancies like a missed chance, it’s only after a game, and you’ve ended up drawing or worse, losing, that the missed chance becomes much more pivotal, for someone in a rich vein of form, and with confidence being a huge part of a goalscorers art, I’m hoping that it won’t effect him, but it was a really bad miss. Second half was a different matter entirely, Reading came out with the bit between their teeth, though psychologically, it could just be that we struggle more when we’re not attacking the Tilton in the second half. A good finish equalised, and then Pedersen’s lack of defensive positional sense, enabled the scorer of Readings second goal, to get in front, and power a header down past Camp. Blues then had to go searching for their own equaliser, and they huffed and puffed, had one mad scramble been at the Tilton end, we would’ve collectively sucked it in, but immediately, Reading exploited the continent size gaps that we’d left, racing up the other end, a fine, low shot from just outside the box, curled past Camp, 1:3, the unbeaten run at an end.
I just didn’t fancy going back to the Dog, I wanted something decent to eat, but settled for a KFC instead, eating it on the bus home.
FOOTNOTE:- Since Christmas, I’ve noticed I’ve had people from both China and Italy read my blog, I’ve wondered whether or not to waste the NHSs time and money, by getting checked out, I’ve decided on wearing a mask, not because of spreading the virus, it’s just that I’m pig ugly.