Saved by the six pack

As you know….if you have been paying attention, the origin of this meandering, whimsical and oonce in awhile football focussed (on a good day, with the wind blowing in the right direction) blog is me wondering if I could cut myself off from TATTPIB for a whole season. This self-imposed cold turkey hasn’t proved to be as truamatic as expected. Largely I think down to me falling hook, line and sinker for the delights of SACFC. As a result I haven’t spent much timing pining for my previous life. I am proudly coping, or so I thought…..

Awoke at the weekend to find myself facing the first Satday of 2014 where at 3pm I wouldn’t be in a theatre or a football ground (or indeed a theatre of dreams). There was NO PLAN. There had been the possibility of a friendly game which I had, like a martyr fox pledged to eschew (BOOM) in the interests of a domestic bliss weekend. As it happened that game didn’t materialise but I decided to bank the selflessness credit anyway – well it’s the theory isn’t it, not the practice? So time on my hands and as the devil makes work for idle foxes there was no choice but to commit myself to some real cleanin’ntidyin’ to top up the domestic chore balance. I assume the domestic chore police who I watched the last home game with will accept that this little lot really did cut the proverbial mustard when it comes to defining ‘domestic chore’.
BOSH – fridge cleaned.
WHAM – downstairs hoovered.
KERPOW – study unpacked and pictures up.

All to the sound track of Radio 5 Live. And that’s where my problems began. I don’t know if they are in cahoots with anyone but how many times did they need to go to an update on TATTPIB at Bournemouth? I could feel myself getting sucked in, willing them to score, wincing as we went over to Gold Sands Park again in case they had conceded.

Now some of you will say, “Change channels.” But come on, it’s a Satday. Not listening to 5 Live would be like well, giving up bacon fries. And then they scored. I promise I didn’t celebrate, no dancing, no fist pumping and no whooping. But I did feel, well a bit resentful. Not only did that make it a record breaking nine wins on the trot. Not something they ever bothered doing when I was watching, but Kevin Philips scored the goal. Now back in 2011 when Mr P was available for nowt, I remember thinking, he’d be a good signing for TATTPIB (or Lesta city as I called them then), but we did’t sign him up. Oh no. They waited until this season when I was AWOL to do it. And nine games unbeaten with promotion looking a distinct possibility. Are they taking the piss!?

It’s deal isn’t it supporting a team through thin and thinner? You go through the five-nils, the cup embarrassments, administration, the management sacking farces, the heart breaking play off trauma and being the laughing stock of the midlands (or further afield if anyone can be arsed) as a trade for the occasional GOOD time. I didn’t expect them to save it all up until this season. I’d always promised myself a new tattoo if we ever went up to the Prem again…But I expected we would do it together. It was going to be one of the minimalist badge incarnations, and without the lettering:

Simple fox

Simple fox

And then Mr TLF mentions that he still can’t get his head around my decision. For as long as he has known me TATTPIB had been central (….or was it centrifugal? Drink had been taken by this point) to my life. He finds it all a bit odd, upsetting even. So by now I am feeling resentful. AND guilty. Happy weekend!

Ah, but as we know every cloud has a silver lining and on this occasion I came upon my silver lining in Poundland:

Snack heaven

Snack heaven

A bumper bag of bacon fries!! As Julie Walters once said, in Educating Rita, “who would have thought they would have built heaven at the end of our street?” Admittedly there is the contamination of the highly inferior scampi fry, but hey nothing in life is perfect……including it seems my timing when it comes to footballing cold turkey.

Taking-one-day-at-a-time Fox

This entry was posted in A previous life, Football deprived. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *