Yesterday afternoon brought all of us in the Gooner Nation a warm, delicious pool of schadenfreude in which to immerse and re-energise ourselves after the disappointment our exit from the Champions League at the hands of a rampant Barcelona.
As events at Wembley unfolded at Portsmouth pulled off a huge FA Cup shock I just kept on feeling better and better. I was listening on the radio whilst doing some work. On a pleasant Sunday afternoon my front room window was open in my third floor flat in a square just off the Holloway Road end of the Liverpool Road, right in the very geographical heart of the Gooner Republic.
I wouldn’t have needed to have the radio on however to have kept track of the score. Both Pompey goals were greeted with cheers and much celebration, the open window in my flat piping the welcome sounds into my happy ears. I’ve no doubt the more that “them lot” down the wrong end of the Seven Sisters Road experienced similar last Tuesday night as Barcelona and Lionel Messi tore us a new one in the Catalan night. That’s part of the fun of being a football fan.
The only down side is that it leaves the path open to a Chelsea Double. Not what I want. We can but hope that Pompey complete their dream and pull off the biggest FA Cup Final upset for decades and take the trophy back to the Hampshire coast. Their fans deserve their moment in the sun after being betrayed by those who run their club. The successive owners and manager who drove a great club straight into the financial brick wall have betrayed a great, passionate set of fans. They merit some relief after their relegation.
On the League front a minimum second place finish is in our hands if we can seize it after United’s goalless draw at Ewood Park. Unfortunately Chelsea appears to have hit some form just at the right time. It’s difficult to see them drawing two of their remaining five League games to allow us to take the title. Still we can’t worry about that. Let’s concentrate on that which we can control. Let’s go to White Hart Lane on Wednesday night and really pile on the agony for the Spuds.
Let the message ring forth from this time and place, “HE’S GOT A TWITCH! ‘ARRY’S GOT A TWITCH! WHERE ‘E GOT IT, WE DON’T KNOW! HOW ‘E GOT IT WE DON’T CARE! ALL WE KNOW IS ‘ARRY’S GOT A TWITCH!”
Keep the faith!
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