Not for the faint hearted

It's been a while since I've sat at the game, praying for the final whistle, cursing the inevitable heartburn and stomach churning that goes with the 'hoof it and see' type of headball we played yesterday. On my return home, I headed straight for the fridge and the soothing calm of a bottle of beer, such were my nerves torn to shreds. A bit OTT maybe but I seriously wonder what damage this game does to my insides, not to mention the obvious premature ageing that has occured to my once youthful looks.....

I, like many other women of a certain age, spend much of my hard earned cash on lotions and potions to melt away those lines and hide away the hint of grey that adorns my unruly mop of hair., all to no avail, I must add. Then, of course, there's the psychological damage. The stress of the final few months of the season, the shoulda, coulda, woulda got the points, won the game, beaten the RS, it all adds to that gnawing feeling of never quite knowing which team will show up today. The good one with all that wonderful football that swept aside almost everyone in it's path? Or the team from yesterday - tired, accident prone, colour blind and seemingly intent on giving us a 90 minute roller coaster ride.

So, moving on, what next? More nail-biting until we regain the wonderful rhythm which swept us to the giddy heights of a very long unbeaten run of great, great football? I hope for the sake of my nerves, my stomach and my looks that the former shows up again soon otherwise I think i might be asking EFC to subsidise a week at a Health Farm for me and many of my fellow suffers to recoup and indeed build up for a fantastic end of season run in. Perhaps Season Ticket holders should get concessions for counselling sessions, BUPA membership and industrial size jars of Oil of Olay to counteract the effects of attendance at the games!

The reality is of course, that I don't give a stuff if I look in the mirror and see my grandmother looking back at me, I don't care if my stomach churns and rumbles or my hands shake with nerves. I'm not bothered if I wake up on a Sunday morning with yet more grey hair and that the local offy thinks I'm an alcoholic.

What matters is my team. Winning ugly or pretty isnt really THAT important but feeling that the team has a good future IS important. I feel we have so much to look forward to in the coming months and years that it's all worth it. A few months ago, I just couldn't stop grinning, we were playing with a swagger and a confidence that was intoxicating and I'm so looking forward to feeling like that again. It WILL come back, I know it will and for the sake of my liver, hopefully it'll be back very soon. Come on you Blues.

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