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just a thought

I'm beginning to think its all my fault.

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OK you know you were not the first, but there again neither was I. Pre puberty my grandfather took me on the big red bus to watch Leyton Orient. For the first game or two I didn''t know if they were playing in red or blue, but it was much more fun that being dragged around the underwear stalls on Walthamstow Market. At half time my grandfather would give me a very small tot of whisky in a china cup of tea. I don''t think Brisbane Road had any toilets in those days, so at some point in the second half my grandfather and most of his pals

would roll up their programs and take a well aimed leak on the terraces. For obvious reasons I could not perform this feat, so oft time I returned home to my Granny''s with soggy pants.

My favourite player was the crew cut Welsh inside forward Phil Woosnam. Phil later became the mastermind of the NASL, but before that he was transferred to West Ham. Within a few months I followed. A little older now and able to ask my way to the ground (and the toilet) I made the trek to Upton Park from the marshlands of Essex. Of course living near Southend I also followed the blues. It was the so called Swinging Sixties and It was not unusual (as Tom Jones pointed out to have two loves). In fact by the time I moved to London threesomes were practically "de rigueur". Bert Jansch was playing in the folk clubs most nights and I was mesmerised by his finger picking. Of course, like everybody else I had to get it together in the country so I moved to wildest Warwickshire. By now virtually self sufficient in everything but money and football, I took up with Coventry City or "Cov" as most of the lazier locals called them. This was not love. This was friendship at best. But there were moments of happiness, like the time George Curtis and his band of Lilliputians nearly put paid to the sublime silky skills of Best, Law and Charlton. George was Cov and Cov was George. His head so large and square he made Dan Dare look like The Mekon. Time to move on I was Looking for a Lover, that I hadn''t found yet. (apologies to Neil Young)

So nearly 40 years ago I pitched up in Norfolk and began making occasional trips to Carrow Road. I''d bring friends, work mates, offspring, anybody''s offspring, to keep me company on the drive there and back. But mostly I''d go on my own. It was what I think the American''s call a slow burner. There have been good times, great times, bad times and downright awful times. But if I could pick out that precise defining moment it was on a cold winters day, at home to Everton a long hard boring afternoon 0-0 all the way and then in the 89th minute (there never were 90+4 minutes) Brian Labone scores. Its easy to get pleasure from pleasure.

Its possible to get pleasure from pain, but this was something much bigger, deeper, wider higher than pleasure. At that precise moment I thought I knew, or I knew I knew, or I thought I thought, or I knew I thought that this would or should or could last forever.

But now I''m beginning to think its my fault. OK so I went to live in Holland for a couple of years and I got infatuated with Jan Peters and Johnny Metgod beautiful boys playing for a fashionable new club. But find me a football fan would does not admire Johann Cruyff and his Dutch legacy. And the six months I spent in Antwerp, so I had a few one night stands some of those crazy Belgian clubs, well how else was I supposed to spend wet Wednesday evenings.

All right those weekend breaks I took were a bad idea, but I think Ryan Air and Easy Jet have to take some of the blame. I always tried to make it on those "all games postponed for the internationals" weekends. So why would I not go to see Juve if I''m in Turin? And no self respecting Subbuteo player would miss watching Dukla if they went to Prague.

So that my side of the story. I leave you for a few weeks in the summer and you throw out our favourite son. I told you it would end in tears when you gave him all that extra pocket money for himself and a big wedge to spend, You have turned our relationship from a comic strip to a soap opera and back again. God knows I''ve defended you in more bars in more countries in more languages that I care to remember. I''m beginning to sound bitter now and you know that''s not my style.

Hold it its the phone ringing ....... Its the Austrian waiter he says do we have room for a Mr. Ross (FLAP)Jack ? Apparently he can play up front or in the hole (wherever that is )

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If you keep writing this entertaining stuff you will get this site a bad name.[:D]

Excellent reading again, do you have a little time on your hands at present?

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I genuinely can''t work out whether this is the best thing I''ve ever read on here or a complete waste of time. I think I quite like that though [:D]

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[quote user="Shack Attack"]I genuinely can''t work out whether this is the best thing I''ve ever read on here or a complete waste of time.[/quote]It can be both, just about everything on here is a waste of someones'' time [:)]Excellent writing - keep it up !

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Write enough of these and you will have a book. Im sure it would sell if the last 2 posts are anything to go by. Perhaps a copy for my wife, who simply cannot grasp the attraction, pain and occasional pleasure derived from supporting Norwich City

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[quote user="blahblahblah"][quote user="Shack Attack"]I genuinely can''t work out whether this is the best thing I''ve ever read on here or a complete waste of time.[/quote]

It can be both, just about everything on here is a waste of someones'' time [:)]

Excellent writing - keep it up !
[/quote]

 

Time spent enjoying yourself is never time wasted! And I have to say I enjoyed that very much, certainly better than Man Or Woman in the Stands!!!!!

Give this chap a column!!!!

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Really enjoyed reading that. Thanks JAT. I really like reading supporters'' stories re how they got to support the team they love and how they go about supporting them. Adrian Chiles wrote an excellent book a couple of seasons ago about a season in the life of a collection of WBA fans. Excellent read too.

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