I find watching my football team very stressful. I take it too personally. Everything that happens takes on a supernatural importance. It’s hard. Especially when we’re not playing very well. Which is often.

However, watching other people’s teams play can be a total pleasure. Because, f’rinstance, if Liverpool win or lose at Brentford, do I really give a shit? In the grand scheme of my world, the result is as important as who the current leader of the Liberal Democrats might be. It’s less important than queues outside petrol stations of panic-buying morons with a boot full of Jerry cans. So I can just watch. And in the case of that very match last night, I can just enjoy a wonderful, exciting, incredible game which quite literally ‘had it all’. Except any VAR bollocks or in fact anything contentious at all.

And much as I have to admit a (grudging) admiration for Liverpool, because they are so good to watch, Brentford were the underdog of everyone’s dreams. Because they don’t really do ‘underdog’ so much as ‘dogged’. And not ‘dogged’ in the bus-parking manner of so many, but dogged in their never say die attitude. Their entire demenour shouts: bring it on, and we’ll give it back. Because they don’t seem to realise how intimidating ‘big clubs’ should be. They didn’t get that when they beat Arsenal on the first top flight match they’d ever played, and they don’t get it now, playing the top of the league team of amazing superstars.

They spent the first 15 minutes just absorbing wave after wave of wonderful Scouse attacking football. And by ‘Scouse’ I mean Egyptian, Brazilian, Senegalese, Geordie…
And then Brentford scored. Having possibly 9% possession for 20 minutes and they score the goal. And then started playing less doggedly. And the match, from that point on, just went end-to-end at breathtaking speed for the remaining 70 minutes. It didn’t stop, it didn’t let up. And when, with the score at 3-3 and Brentford appeared to hit what would have been, should have been, could have been, the winner, even though they had 3 players all offside by 5 yards, you couldn’t help but share that momentary dream.

This afternoon Spurs play Arsenal. Fortunately for me, I’ll be at the Tate Britain looking at Paula Rego’s artwork. And hardly glancing at my phone. Hardly at all. Not interested. Not one bit. Will be the furthest thing from my mind.

God-help-me Sunday

A xxxx