So in Denmark it happens later. But it arrives in the end. That moment when football plunges you into a pit of despair and introspection. Why bother? What is the point? Last year it happen here and here. This year it happens here.
Mums always know. They know the pain that is coming.
Frem lost. A game that they should have won against a team they perhaps could not afford to lose against. Promotion is looking increasingly unlikely as Frem are ‘Spurssing it up’.* The Kübler-Ross model lists five emotions experienced upon bad news: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. Kübler-Ross is wrong. The emotions as follows:
UPSETNESS (not sure this is a word, but if Kübler-Ross is a surname…)
At first, I was angrily upset. From the moment, Frem missed a glorious chance and Braband went up the other end to score with a finish that deserved to win many games, I knew it was going wrong. I had been here before. So many times before. In one flash of a right leg, my hope and expectation for a season ending party to end all parties disappeared. There was still some 30 minutes left, but that was a blow that took the air out of many.
Sunglasses: Great enablers for dancing with tears in your eyes.
That upsetness is replaced by resignation. I have been here before. I still come to football. I do not learn my mistakes. Each year, the spirit rises that this will be the year. It may be Spurs or MTK or Frem or whoever else has caught my eyes. But it always ends the same. Arsenal finish above Spurs and the rest just disintegrates around this central rotten core.
Resignation is once again replaced by the eternally pathetic question of ‘what if’. This moment in the season never (rarely) comes at the end. There will always be a few games left or the final half of the final game or injury time of the final game. In your head, you know it is over. But the heart still beats. What if? What if Frem win all three? They are only one point off the promotion places. It could happen. In all likelihood, it won’t happen. But we will go again until we stub out every last ember of hope.
All of the above have the backdrop of depression or the black fog of the bottom of a pond as the psychiatrist in me calls it. The misery that not only have you experienced the same Upsetness, Resignation, Hope cycle again, but that it will be followed by…
Euro 2016. Bring it on. This will end well.
It all starts again. A new season: a new hope.
I am not sure I have much more to say other than football is nothing more than a toxic cocktail of hope and depression. Where the hell is that window?
Anyway, we go to AB this weekend. Like the last five games it seems nothing but a win will do. If Daft Punk can get Lucky being both French and wearing that stupid helmet, then anything goes…
ps. My lucky shirt is not lucky.
* In the UK, a ‘Spurs up’ or ‘doing a Spurs’ or ‘being Spursy’ is often used to refer to someone/something messing something up in an unfathomable way having been in a strong position on the basis of the historic performances of Tottenham Hotspur. In South Carolina, when something has its Spurs up it means it is dying on the basis of the losing cockrel at the end of a cock fight. Americans.
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