Originally Posted by
57vintage
The worrying thing on a personal level is that I’m beginning to accept such defeats as the norm.
Whilst I may rant, rave, eff and blind and destroy domestic accoutrements during Red TV commentary à la Golden Gordon out of Ripping Yarns, an hour after the final whistle I find that the ire, anger, frustration, and hate-fuelled antipathy towards the ****ing ****s who have booted us from arsehole to breakfast-time, aided and abetted by some weedgie lackey refereee, have generally subsided to “ach weel” and stoic acceptance that we’re not good enough, tough enough, or streetwise enough to compete and win.
Forty years ago, such insipid capitulation would have ruined my weekend. I suspect that the hired hands of ‘the group’ on the pitch and in the technical area don’t realise what it means to we fans.
I never imagined that I’d get to the stage of believing that ‘if they don’t care, why should I?’ I’m ****ing close to it right now.
COYR like.