With half marathon training hamstrung, by well, a hamstring, it has become clear that the less there is of TLF on 11 June the better. Particularly as if the worse comes to the worse, Julie will be dragging me round by my ears.
That means calorie counting via an App has become a crucial part of the TLF regime. It was fine in theory but after a very successful first 24 hours, the first hurdle came into view…that second leg Champions League fixture against Seville and only 650 calories left to devote to the game and all associated rituals. The obvious answer of course would be to eschew (BOOM!) the lucky bacon fries, the lucky foam crocodiles (that’s very specific to Lesta not my other City) and the booze. BUT dilly ding, dilly dong, as they don’t say round these parts any more; we are in Champions League man. Initially guilt outweighed hedonism. Dinner destination was Zizzi’s on the grounds that it does a pizza under 550 calories, which washed down with a nice fizzy water would leave TLF within calorie limits and loitering on the moral high ground.
Except, the Zizzi menu does make a big thing about their very fine Argentinean Malbec. Faced with this kind of pressure, combined with the pre-match nerves I turned for support to Mummy TLF via text. She assured me that alcohol was an essential for all football and theatre related meals. And in turn, I always think it is essential to respect the views of your parents. Two Malbecs and a Stella essential to be precise.
A bit of anaesthetic was probably not a bad idea that night. You all know the story, the best atmosphere in that ground ever, an early home goal, a bit of theatre resulting in a sending off, another goal, a penalty…SAVED!!!!!!!! What you may have missed was TLF’s hand injury where the eight person celebratory bundle for Lesta’s second goal led to someone’s tooth (not sure whose) and a TLF digit coming into close contact, with slightly bloody consequences for the digit……if it hadn’t been for those extra calories I might have fainted.
And faint we nearly did when that final whistle went and we realised that the mess, contradiction and infuriating wonder that is Lesta City were in the quarter finals of the Champions League. It was time to dust off the “it’s a once in a life time experience” excuse and get TLF booked on a flight and into a Madrid hotel without consultation and within 30 minutes of the draw being made.
I predict a riot.