Profligacy and Pish
Yes, yes. Real Madrid, Mourinho and the Bernabéu. That was all very exciting news for a Friday morning. What concerns me now is the rather mischievous asides that many of us were making about having to win the Champions League this year in order to make bloody certain we were in it next time around is looking less and less a harebrained scheme by the minute. The way the weekend panned out it almost seems like our best shot.
Simply outrageous scenes of wastefulness on Saturday lunchtime; of the like I haven’t seen since my Lithuanian neighbour flopped a perfectly good king-sized mattress out onto their front lawn last summer. Let me tell you, the things you can do with a Brillo pad and a daub of caustic soda. Boy howdy. Sadly for us there’s not a substance in the periodic table that will be able to expunge the memories of our final encounter with the ‘Ammers this season; of yet another day where spurned chances and limp forwards were court jesters and form goalkeepers and woodwork, king.
Defoe certainly wouldn’t have won over many of his critics. The commentary team mused quite early on about the prospect of Jermain having ‘one of those days’ in front of goal and from the second it was even suggested the script might as well been torched to cinders and swept into the balmy afternoon air; such was the game’s plot so obviously laid out. He could still be out there now and not yet have scored. While both of the really glaring chances were forgivable in their own way- in that the first required cosmos skipping reflexes and the second was well saved- one can’t help but feel at least one should’ve been made to stick. It’s a puzzler, that’s for sure.
But what does one say? Ho-hum? Better luck next time? I’m at a loss. I mean, we played some breathtaking football at times and the points always seemed within reach. It’s just yet again the hoards of chances coming our way were auspicious but for their lack of contact with the white netty-type stuff festooning the goal frame. Which I hear is rather important in this game.
Still, all to play for. Everything still in our hands. Who else has a feeling it’s going to be all about Eastlands again?
Crikey.
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