Saturday, 10 November 2012
Well, maybe my last post did make all the difference in keeping Rooney [sic] out of the White House. Who knows? The Ajax match didn't exactly work out as one might have hoped however. As it happens, I was at the theatre, watching my eldest perform in a version of Hamlet while the match kicked off. Quite good (Hamlet, I mean) it was too, and I think may have further cemented the kid's love for the stage. Why not, eh? I realise, as much from my lover as anyone else, that acting is a tough profession, and a road as likely to lead to tears and fears as any in life - yet, there are a lot of good things to be said for it, and who am I to ruin a young girl's dream - if indeed that is what it will become? Maybe she will have her hopes dashed, and end up working in transportation or facilities management, but she will sure as hell have an interesting enough life if she sticks with it.
But, as often seems to happen, it was Twitter getting itself arse about face which caused me some confusion as I sat in the darkened theatre surreptitiously checking my phone. There was no mention of either of their opening goals until too late, and in a cruel twist, notification of the first (what a fucking joke of a goal that was) only came in after the match had finished, by which time I had managed to get home and watch the last infuriating 20 minutes or so. Blah blah, you can't blame the officials; blah blah, not good enough over the two matches; blah blah poor tactics. It all may well be true, but it doesn't half piss me off sometimes. Kun's third goal of the night, and his second disallowed one, should definitely have counted, and Mario was clearly fouled in the box at the end. Regardless of what those fucking idiots with the wands are supposed to be doing behind the goal line (and someone on Twitter pointed out that it was one of these dweebs who indicated this was not a penalty, though I haven't had chance to look closely at it again yet) the ref himself should have blown for that, and then we would have had another last gasp Balotelli pen to look forward to.
Alas, it was not to be. I'm also not going to change my view about the use of technology either, which is that it should not be used. Part of the whole emotional charge of footy is the argument in the pub after a match as to whether a decision was right or wrong, and in general things do balance out (unless you're a filthy cheating Rag with the ref in your back pocket) so to complain is churlish and a waste of time.
One of those teams of course who could have quite a few good reasons to complain are coming up agin us this weekend. The mighty Spurs no less, facing their own seemingly endless battle with the fates and struggling to come to terms with the overrated AVB. Personally, I don't think this will be an easy one either, although Defoe getting a hat trick midweek is not an indicator that he will play well - or even play at all - on Sunday. Cautiously, I would suggest a 2-1 win, but would not be too surprised at a draw. I desperately desperately desperately want Tevez to get a goal as recognition for all the hard shifts he has put in. Will little Silva come back into the side at last? Will I be at the theatre? No fucking chance! Come on City!