Feelin' Blue

It's just one of those times in football when, as in life, even knowing what's going to happen doesn't soften the blow. You're 1-0 up with fifteen minutes left. Despite having posed a fairly minimal threat all match, they are guaranteed to score two goals in that time. It's what they do. And you spend those fifteen minutes obsessing over the possibility of them scoring two goals, achieving a strange level of hyperactive calm by convincing yourself that if you worry enough about them scoring two goals, then they won't score two goals, and so you'll have nothing to worry about. This demented routine of self-delusion inevitably falls apart when out of nowhere, they do, in fact, score two goals.

So it's all aboard the Heartbreak Express, stopping at Cruelty Street and Bitterness Parkway, where passengers may change for Sod's Law Central. Best way to deal with it is reminding myself of the many times in the past we did exactly the same to them (with eternal thanks to Richard Dunne for earning us a point in a match where we didn't have a single shot, and Roman Bednar for snatching a win in the final seconds of play by heading the ball with his eyes closed). What goes around comes around...