The cruelty of hope
In order to defend myself from the punch in the gut which football results can deliver, I ritually envelop myself in gloom before a big match. Consequently I should be fully prepared for Northern Ireland’s imminent defeat in Poland tomorrow and the subsequent extinguishing of our World Cup qualifying aspirations at Windsor Park on Wednesday night.
Except that I’m not. Really. Somewhere, buried too deep to detect in normal conversation, so deep that I am barely aware of it myself, an ember of hope still glows. Dimly.
And when disappointment does come, as it surely must, I will feel it just as deeply as any other supporter.
Follow the death of my dream, or the genesis of my bankruptcy, live, on 3000Versts Twitter feed. Tomorrow evening and, live from Windsor Park, on Wednesday night.
One more thing. COME ON NORTHERN IRELAND!
Except that I’m not. Really. Somewhere, buried too deep to detect in normal conversation, so deep that I am barely aware of it myself, an ember of hope still glows. Dimly.
And when disappointment does come, as it surely must, I will feel it just as deeply as any other supporter.
Follow the death of my dream, or the genesis of my bankruptcy, live, on 3000Versts Twitter feed. Tomorrow evening and, live from Windsor Park, on Wednesday night.
One more thing. COME ON NORTHERN IRELAND!
Comments