So I watched the game. The match. The big one. Spurs at Man United. And it was… it was… it was just fucking horrible.

I know what the rules are; I’ve watched plenty of football. Some (Mel) would say I’ve watched way too much. But the rule is: look for positives. And I looked. And I searched. And I watched more. I looked under the sofa. I tried the Sunday papers. But there were simply no positives to be found anywhere. We were just shit. In fact the nearest thing to a positive I could find was: at least we’re not Chelsea. We still play the game honestly and properly, with a minimum of diving around and hardly any ganging up on the ref. Maybe that’s where we need to wise up: more ‘gamesmanship’. Though a lot of good its done Chelsea this week.

So once again, I’m forced to ask the question: if there is a God, why would He forsake His own team at such a critical time of the season? When a win would have kept us right there in the mix for 4th place whereas the loss sets us totally adrift (some would say ‘and without a paddle’). Though in fact we have a paddle and his name is Harry Kane. Sadly he sank without much trace yesterday afternoon.

We are all aware that God doesn’t interfere with everyday shit. He’s too busy… er… well, he’s too busy. So when Boco Haram kidnap 200 innocent schoolgirls in Nigeria, He lets them be. There’s no bolt of lightning out of the sky to stop it. When ISIS beheads charity workers there is a distinct lack of Seas parting, plagues of locusts or burning bushes around to help. And when Wayne Rooney burst through the Spurs defence, having been gifted the sodding ball by one of our very own, I waited for the clouds to suddenly part, just as he crossed into the box, and that Godly face, beard and all, to appear and call down upon the Roonster to cease and dissist, IN THE NAME OF ME!!!!!

And Wayne would have stopped dead in his tracks. Because he’s a Christian. Says so on his arm, tattooed just under the massive cross on his bicep. You can’t get more devout than that unless you ink it on your face. Though one feels that he is that ‘Christian’ in purely some abstract, political sense, in that he lacks all and every trace of any remote kind of ‘moral fibre’ that you might normally expect a Christian to possess.

Its a ‘test’. A test of our faith. That we still ‘believe’ even after a trouncing by Manchester United. Because without faith, without belief, there’s just nothing. So its all part of His plan. His best laid plan. And, as He is neither mice nor man, He’s exempt from fucking it up. So you’d like ta think.

Happy sodding Monday

A Believer
xxxx