At its core, psychotherapy is meant to help a person manage whatever issues need managing by getting them out in the open for honest and forthright conversation. Perhaps one of you is a pro in this honorable field. Regardless, I’m on the couch. Figuratively, that is.
Because I’m a mess. Shouldn’t be, but I am. I blame Tom Rennie of TalkSPORT. Last week we argued that there was no realistic chance of us going down. He maintained we would get no points from our remaining games while Swansea had a good chance of grabbing the maximum. He really pissed me off. But that chat had me terrified, and it ruined my entire day today.
Two hours before kickoff I was at my doctor’s office. Yearly checkup with blood work, change the oil, rotate the tires. The works.
“Are you under any extra stress?” he asked.
“Absolutely” I replied, starting at the floor.
“Riiiight. Your dad, settling the estate. I’m sure that’s rough” he said thoughtfully. I was about to correct him, but that would have launched a diatribe including words like Feghouli and Calleri that could easily have been mistaken for some bacteria picked up from spoiled poultry.
I nodded instead.
At 2pm my time, the lineups were announced. At 2:02pm I was at a red light. Now that my IPhone is mounted on one of those suction cup things on my windshield it took no more than a quick touch of Twitter. The honking of the Range Rover behind me slapped me out of my Noble for Nordtveit and Calleri still starting instead of Fletcher shock.
As kickoff approached, I had to open a bottle of Cahors for a customer. Any Malbec fans out there? If so, Lanzini’s countrymen deserve much credit for bringing that ancient grape to international prominence. But did you know it’s a French variety? It’s one of the five red grapes of Bordeaux, and Cahors is a small town where Malbec is still king. The Black Ink Wines Of Cahors as they’ve been referred to. It was good, too. Customer thought I didn’t like it myself because I was shaking my head while staring at the glass. If I can’t explain Feghouli to my doctor there’s no way to explain Calleri or Nordtveit to a wine director.
I listened to the first half in the car driving to get my daughter from school. When Lanzini chose to shoot instead of passing to Calleri, the announcer said it was a bad decision. If Lanzini had fed his fellow Argentine, he would have scored moaned the radio guy.
Guy hasn’t watched much of him has he?
Adrian sounded like he made a stop worthy of Henrik Lundqvist of The New York Rangers hockey team on Kane, and if radio can tell a story the first half sounded like we had energy and verve, and Spurs had movement and skill. All in equal parts, thus an even 45 minutes.
As the second half started, I started driving home with my daughter. Thankfully, she wanted to wear her headphones and listen to music so I was able to keep the game on without argument. And before you say “you’re the adult, you listen to whatever you want”, remember what I was dealing with. A 15 year old girl. After a geometry test. Sopping wet from rain. Not so simple after all, huh?
As I walked into my house, I turned on the kitchen TV. No way I was going to start actually watching this thing, taking notes, pretending to be a reporter. My ten year old son was returning home from his first ever overnight school trip, and he wanted spaghetti and meatballs for dinner. I make very, good, meatballs. Wife makes very, good, sauce. Don’t make fresh pasta. Sorry. Normally when a ball falls into the opposition’s eighteen yard box and bounces around, Lady Luck laughs at us. Ayew, Calleri, then it would be booted away. Right? As the ball fell to The Jewel, my hands were covered in raw beef. Eggs, fresh breadcrumbs, salt, and pepper by the way. Keep it simple.
Boom. West Ham 1, those guys bubkus.
I pumped my fist in the air, causing roughly….ohhhhh…..maybe a quarter worth of meatball to fly in the air and land on the floor. Laminate, so very easy to clean. Still got nine good sized meatballs into the roasting dish to cook for 30 minutes at 350 degrees. After that I finish cooking in the sauce.
I’ve been mocking Calleri here. We all have. But in fairness, he played well from what I heard and saw. He could have made it 2-0, but Lloris made a great save. Can’t fault the kid for that.
My son walked through the door with nine minutes to go. My nerves were beyond frayed, but I had to turn my attention to him. With one eye on him as he told me about the trip, the other eye glanced at the TV. Five minutes added? What the f&$k!?!?
The bus ride was fun? Ohhhhh goooooood. Blow the damned whistle, Taylor! Pizza for lunch at a rest stop? How fuuuuuuunnnnnn!
YES!!!!!
Against all odds and rational thought, we beat the in-form team in the league. We likely destroyed their title hopes. We guaranteed our top flight status. We kind of christened a home.
After the final whistle, I got a couple of Tweets that made me smile. ExWHUemployee chided me, saying “I told you David now will you calm down please”. Darren Turner was simpler in his admonishment of my neurosis, simply asking “Now will you believe”? I’m looking forward to Nigel’s text or call.
I gave the kid a hug so hard he probably got the wind knocked out of him. My boy was home, my team was safe.
Sauce needs to simmer a bit.