White Riot.

fcum, originally uploaded by mithering.

It’s been a week so I guess it’s finally time to reveal what a fucking ballache I found that last round of the cup. Right from the get go, with the reduced allocation from Brighton being made based on bad information or information applied in a bad way, which led to the match down at The Withdean Stadium being categorised as a Category C game. The worst possible rating for expectations of all-round hooliganism and insane puppy-stabbing debauchery. Queuing for tickets for me and The Eldest before the Hinckley game, with season ticket and membership cards in hand. Queuing just before the end of the Hinckley game, with our kid’s membership card in hand, and missing the handbags. The interminable journey down to Brighton. Getting lost, missing the first twenty five minutes, and the angst and misery that generated. Our Kid standing outside the ground, waiting for me to turn up with his tickets twenty five minutes late.

Then the upswing in mood as we took the lead and held on to right near the end. Brighton’s inevitable equaliser, the penalty save and all round Player of the Round performance by Sam Ashton. Back on the coach and stuck on the M40, frost ghosts appearing beneath each vehicle as we did one mile in an hour. Getting up at 5.45 and going to bed at 2.45.

Then the teeth-grinding madness associated with getting tickets for the replay. Calling every day until I finally got through only to find out that all the tickets for Main Stand and MRE were gone. Where were all these fuckers coming from? Ooops, I know, I have four new people from work alongside me in the Cemmy End. The wait for tickets. Throat-croaking, mind-bending illness which also affects The Eldest, meaning he wasn’t able to come along. I’m glad he didn’t, the temperature at pitch side would have killed him. Then being at that game and not being able to sing, not being able to make a noise that would have helped push things on. The faces of the goalkeeper and the defence when the fourth goal went in. Like seeing crushing disappointment on the faces of your children and not being able to do anything about it. The score in the end was meaningless; we were always going to be on the end of a thumping at some point, over-achieving, noisy infants that we were, but somehow it doubling in the last few minutes made it that bit more difficult to take.

Sorry, I had to get that off my chest. And now, let’s get on with the league.

Incidentally, the picture above was taken by James "The Curse" Three-Stands who I work with. He's been to the last three home FC games. Each time in a different stand (Main, MRE, Cemetery) and is looking to get to Vegas on Sunday. I've suggested he has a go in all four stands. Just to keep his average up.