2-nil, and you fucked it up, 2-nil, and…

You know that song? Well that was Spurs game yesterday against Manchester City. We won 2-nil but the linesmen fucked it up so they called it 4-1 instead. I don’t care. Free points is free points, whichever way you miss Kyle Walker being 19 yards offside. (Was the man blind?)

But really, I don’t care. Firstly because we won either way, though 4-1 has a magical ring to it that 2-0 kind’a lacks. And secondly because refereeing cock-ups are a part of the game and will remain so until they finally agree to actually use the 736 cameras present at every single match, and concede to take the 3 seconds to rewind and make what we call in rugby a TMO decision. One which no-one can argue with. Though who wants that?

I have one rule. To cover my entire life. I don’t moan about offside goals, whether they’re ours or ‘theirs’. Part of the game, get over it, move on. I leave the moaning to the professionals. Not professional footballers, professional moaners. Wenger, Morinho, the scapegoat-seekers, Arsenal fans and other miserable low-lifes. At Spurs we just score more goals until we get one or two that everyone is happy with or at least prepared to accept.

So we beat mighty City 4-1 and it felt absolutely wonderful.

Then the rugby started. And its a funny thing; I don’t resent those who play for the other side when they play well. I do at football, not at rugby. Its almost like I become some kind of closet gentleman or something equally as unlikely. But no, I’m still the same bastard, but just one that appreciates the skill of others.

The match was brilliant. But so fucking hard. 3 men stretchered off. Bloody and bruisy yet quite wonderful. Unfortunately England lost and will now struggle to qualify for the final stages of this world cup. Which is at home, so doubly annoying. But all is not yet lost. Just the game last night.

Wales were up by 3 with 2 minutes and some left on the clock when we were awarded a penalty. Ok, it was right by the touchline, which is not the easiest, but Owen Farrell had been kicking with amazing accuracy all night and wanted to tie the game up. But captain Chris Robshaw, upon whose shoulders such decisions lie, instead chose to kick for a line out at about 5 metres out. To go for the winning try rather than the tying penalty.

And sadly it all went tits up. A few more bodies got carried off, they swept up the severed limbs and Wales got the ball back.

I’m a big Chris Robshaw fan. He gives heart and soul to every game. And body. Lots of bits of his body. But he was damned. Take the penalty and everyone accuses him of not having the confidence to go for the win. Miss the penalty and its a matter that he should have gone for the win anyway.

We didn’t lose because of Chris Robshaw and his poor decision. We lost because Wales were totally fucking brilliant at times. And they chose those times very carefully.

Bring on the Aussies, that’s what I say. When I’m feeling bold.

Happy Sunday

A xxxx