A cold and frosty Satday sees TLF receive a suitable photo from the travelling SBYS Ultras (!) who provide assurance that TLF is with them in spirit. This is welcome as not only is TLF suffering from a minor dose of FOMO by not being on the fun train to ShItehawk, but also the Claude Puel-inspired balloon of joie d’vivre has been well and truly burst. In a bout of festive generosity, Lesta had gifted Crystal Palace not just their first away goal of the season, but also their second and their third. Almost enough for TLLF to come over all humbuggy. Which is handy seeing as TLF’s absence at any football ground on this particular Saturday is down to tickets for the RSC’s Christmas Carol (segue alert).
It’s a light-hearted and entertaining way to spend a Saturday evening, although slightly un-nerving as am never quite sure whether Mr Ebenezer Scrooge is on stage or sat next to me, such is the furious nodding coming from Ebenezer TLF every time Scrooge makes plain his disgust at the concept of a bit of fa-la-la-la, glad tidings and tinsely wotnot.
The thought strikes TLF, after several wines, that the beautiful game could benefit from a bit of the Dickens treatment. That sentence prompts memories of a joke that goes along the lines of, “Do you like Dickens?” BUT this blog is a smut free zone, so moving swiftly on and back to the idea of the Ghosts of Football past, present and future.
The ghosts would visit Football Scrooge, played by a conglomerate of all those who represent what is wrong with modern football. Football past would take our anti-hero back to sepia-toned times, with jumpers for goalposts, small children being passed over the heads of the crowd to the front of the terraces, players who got the bus to the ground with the fans and a distinct lack of neon coloured boots and Robbie Savage. Football present would show FS how those who love the game and pay for the game hold them in contempt. And there would be LOTS of Robbie Savage. Football future? A world where football is only watched by corporates and friends of FIFA. It is dull and soulless. And Robbie Savage has been immortalised as a football summarising robot.
Sadly none of this will see FS change its nasty ways. But that’s because I am not the greatest novelist of the Victorian era (or any era come to that). Just a TLF with a slightly daft haircut, who loves the beautiful game, her two Cities and the lovely people I watch football with; God* bless us, every one!
Ho Ho Ho!
*Other deities are available.