On the preceding Wednesday morning to this game, I went and purchased tickets for me and my brother in law John to watch Blues at Fulham on Boxing day. In the evening, the government announced that because of the rapid transmission of the brand spanking new, super dooper latest Covid mutation, sports grounds where the attendance is likely to be over 10,000, spectators will have to show proof that they’ve been fully vaccinated or produce evidence of a negative test taken 48 hours or less before the event. I will now have to take a lateral flow test. I’m only going to do one before the Fulham game as I’m committed to go. After that, I won’t be doing another. Until the government concedes that it’s a waste of time and backs down, I will stick to doing Non-League games. If anyone believes it’s a great idea, then can they explain to me how a work colleague’s fully vaccinated cousin still contracted the virus and sadly died from it please? I won’t be going to Blackburn either. It was actually a game I wasn’t looking forward to doing anyway. The home of Thwaites Brewery, Blackburn is a desert for real ale. So the Fulham game apart, this was to be my last Blues game until vaccine passports are deemed obsolete. When will that be? When the vindictive health ‘advisers’ to the government stop their pressure. I get that you were all bullied at school by the nasty boys and girls for being geeks, but when are you actually going to get therapy and move on? I’m only asking because through no fault of my own, (Yeah, I was bullied too.) my life is being put on hold. Thing is, whilst my life is put on hold, my body isn’t. Every day my body gets a little older, every day my body carries on disintegrating. Cheers for that, thanks for absolutely nothing. If you think I’m being overly dramatic, then let’s slide sidewards in the world of geekdom and into to mathematics. Don’t worry Chris, I know you hate maths. I’m not going to force you to do any. One out of every two people will develop some kind of cancer sometime in their life. That’s a rather scary statistic, until you learn that a lot is minor and easily treatable. Just on statistics alone (And apparently these so called health ‘advisers’ follow the figures.) there’s been 11.19 million confirmed cases out of a population of 67.22 million in this country. A percentage of 16.6468. For the benefit of my Sis, that’s 16 people out of every hundred. Yes yes, I can hear you cry, but there’s been 147,048 deaths. That’s an awful lot right? Yeah it is, but it’s actually only 0.21188% of the population. Yep, less than a quarter of 1% of the population has died from it. Oh, and by the way, there’s 100% chance you’re going to die of something anyway, so think about it, I mean REALLY think about it. Why are we allowing these health ‘advisers’ rule what we’re doing? Personally, I’m that annoyed with it all, that I’ve taken to looking out for Boston United’s results, with the wish that they’ve lost, just because it ruins Vincent Van Tam’s night. Rant over? I’d like to say it is, but I fear it won’t be. Saturday home game still meant I was going to start off at the Welly. I got there to find Hereford Gary waiting for the place to open, although it was just after 10 o’clock. I didn’t mind too much, as I have found the place open before time before now. It shortly opened and It wasn’t long before Baggies Alan came in. He’d been on a first run on the trains, so had had to be up, ridiculously early. He was just dropping in for a wind down pint before going home. Chat was of who won Camra pub of the year for Brum. In a year that’s been difficult for the pub trade to say the least, I’m only glad that any of them are still around. Taffy dropped in, tired from a disrupted night’s sleep due to the noise from a nearby generator. Steve was the next to join us. Talk was of Blackburn away and train issues. It didn’t help matters that, like I say, Blackburn is awful for real ale. Steve had made the decision to give the game a miss. I was missing it for other reasons. Both Jinksy and JK came in, as did Worcester Pete. Talk was about Covid booster jabs. Pete took to pretending that I was spreading the virus as I’ve not been and won’t be having the vaccine, or the booster……or the booster after that………..or the booster after that…..or the….. Amazingly, Sommer Brewery had opened a new place in the centre of town. We just had to take a look.
We left Taffy in there, he’d treated himself to three different halves, and rightly wasn’t going to rush them. I left Jinksy and Steve to carry on to Halton Turner, as I ducked into Kilda. Spoons and Paul were in there. Spoons had got himself a book on the history of Heavy Metal. I didn’t inquire as to if the book mentioned T’pau or not, or if the book was China in his hand. Sorry, just thought I’d sneak a Dad joke in there. To be honest, it always amuses me how much Spoons loves the band. They left to be almost immediately replaced by Daryl, fresh from work, and Rich, fresh from not having to go to work. We toddled off to Bob’s, where we met up with Ian. Arrangements were made for next week.
Little Arthur Labinjo-Hughes had been, and is being commemorated by Blues. Although I hadn’t joined in on the march, one had been held in the kids honor, from the city centre to the ground.
YouTube if you want to watch footage of the march. It’s still and will remain an extremely emotive issue. So to the game then. If I’m being totally honest, and I always strive to be, the atmosphere at home games died a death so long ago, it’s hard to remember a game I really enjoyed. The football isn’t appalling, but it is poor. I suppose, given that the football isn’t all that exciting, I shouldn’t be surprised that the atmosphere is morgue like biggest part of the time. As you will have probably guessed already, I wasn’t expecting this game to be much of a spectacle. I was to be proved wrong. The 6th minute brought a beautifully observed minutes applause from supporters, players and everyone in between alike, for Arthur, before the game recommenced. As games go, it was a good one, especially for a neutral. Just on the half hour, Riley McGree fed the Chelmsley lad with a delicious through ball that Deeney covered with chilli sauce and demolished. He even ate the plate it had been served on. Just before halftime, McGree fed Sunjic and the Croatian was just as gluttonous as the fat lad had been. Halftime, and it was looking good for a second successive home victory. It’s Blues though, nothing if hardly anything, is easy. Cardiff’s first owed a lot to the Blues defence and Friend in particular, doing impressions of shop window mannequins. Still, we could see this out. Couldn’t we? Nope. As the game entered added time and with the Blues defence already back in the changing room, Cardiff grabbed the equaliser. On the face of it, like I’ve already said, it had been a good game, but it really should’ve been another 3 points and not just one.
I wasn’t depressed coming out of the ground. Nor was I angry. I’m resigned to our predicament. In one sense, with not being able to watch Blues now, I really can’t say I care. I didn’t fancy going back to the pub after. Not because I was feeling antisocial as such, I just couldn’t be bothered due the impending shutdown, lockdown, life down.