Joy to Finzie-Barr

Bet the boy was rocking Raheny_Eye. But bloody hell, this is painful.

In the extreme.

Football was always supposed to be a diversion, a divertissement, something to raise the spirits and help you enjoy life on the side. I lvoe the ever-present optimism of football; so what that we are crap now, there is always next season. It is like a do-over on life.

The down side of that is what happens when you are not shite, when you are as good as you can be and you still don't win. Today, for example, we played Newcastle United away. And we couldn't win. We scored, they scored, we scored again, they scored again. Our best player got carried off on a stretcher. The whole efforts of a season seemed to be teetering on a knife-edge and toppling towards oblivion.

And the Divock Origi scores for us, with 3 minutes left. I knew he'd do it (amazingly, given my innate pessimism) and wanted this to be today's blip. And he did.

And no matter that there are an incredible 9 minutes of stoppage time, and every time they have the ball there is a stab of fear in my heart. (Is it fear - or am I maybe having an early onset heart attack?) Because we hold out, and Ottawacker Jr. can collapse in a heap on the sofa, breathless, anguished, and enraptured. 

Until Tuesday, when we have to suffer it all again in the Champions League semi-final.