happyhippy
Well-Known Member
......... but not for the reasons you'll probably automatically think.
We weren't exactly wonderful today, though if our disallowed goal early on had stood, it could have been a lot different, but that's life, and we go home to lick our wounds (unless they come from falling down a drain, or being attacked by a bread bin - my post-Wolves fun).
I can live with bad performances. I can live with us generally being crap, I can live with spawny goals against us. I can live with poor referees, and I can live with defeats. Jesus(TM), my first match was just over thirty years ago, and throughout that time, you can hardly say I've been glory hunting.
I can live with the pigs gloating, which they have done for most of my lifetime. I can live with the inevitable disappointments after the oh so few glimmers of light. I even started to live with the stupid amounts of money which are casually bandied around, even at United's level in the game.
But do you know what I simply can't live with anymore? I'll tell you.
The complete and utter wankers who infect our stands.
Those who see fit to ignore the names "Danny Webber" and "Kyle Naughton", preferring the 'loveable' epithets of "Halfbake", and the like. Those who believe it's remarkably amusing to announce that there is a "rac-c-c-coooooooon" on the pitch when, well, you don't need a lot of imagination to work it out, do you?
Those who find deep hilarity in chants about Chris Morgan involving the incredibly useful lines, "Intensive care? We don't care.", usually followed by an exhortation for Morgs to "knock 'im out".
Those who sort out football arguments on the Kop by throwing the dissentor down five rows of seats, before marauding over them to kick the living daylights out him. Six on to one earlier at the top of Gangway A during the second half. Not to mention that there were kids (two of whom were mine) around. Ironically, we'd been put there after we'd asked to be moved because of the behaviour and general verbal diarrhoea which was polluting our ears in our normal seats.
Those whose grasp of the rules seems to be at the same extent as my grasp of Lingala. These have been growing ever since we started to look like we were going to get promoted, and then rocketed when we actually did go up. Unfortunately, these morons remain still.
Now, I don't like the way that football has become sanitised over the last decade or so, but I just can't be doing with these wankers. It's not even that they're just kids who don't know any better. Some of the blokes who so bravely waded in to beat up one bloke were easily in their forties and fifties.
I really don't need the aggro. I want to go to a match to have a laugh; not to be a crush barrier. It's bad enough that the players can find ways to ruin my weekends, without these arseholes doing it, win, lose or draw.
I'm off to Dronny for the rest of the season to watch Sheffield FC. I know I've said I'd do it before, but Mick Rooker now has my season ticket, and my youngest's (she's only four, so it's pointless her having one if I'm not going), and I don't want them back. I went there last Saturday for the match v Lincoln United (abandoned at half time, leading 1-0), and had a right laugh. Even the walk back in dense fog was a giggle, if a touch cold!
When I compare and contrast the two, there is only one winner for me.
We weren't exactly wonderful today, though if our disallowed goal early on had stood, it could have been a lot different, but that's life, and we go home to lick our wounds (unless they come from falling down a drain, or being attacked by a bread bin - my post-Wolves fun).
I can live with bad performances. I can live with us generally being crap, I can live with spawny goals against us. I can live with poor referees, and I can live with defeats. Jesus(TM), my first match was just over thirty years ago, and throughout that time, you can hardly say I've been glory hunting.
I can live with the pigs gloating, which they have done for most of my lifetime. I can live with the inevitable disappointments after the oh so few glimmers of light. I even started to live with the stupid amounts of money which are casually bandied around, even at United's level in the game.
But do you know what I simply can't live with anymore? I'll tell you.
The complete and utter wankers who infect our stands.
Those who see fit to ignore the names "Danny Webber" and "Kyle Naughton", preferring the 'loveable' epithets of "Halfbake", and the like. Those who believe it's remarkably amusing to announce that there is a "rac-c-c-coooooooon" on the pitch when, well, you don't need a lot of imagination to work it out, do you?
Those who find deep hilarity in chants about Chris Morgan involving the incredibly useful lines, "Intensive care? We don't care.", usually followed by an exhortation for Morgs to "knock 'im out".
Those who sort out football arguments on the Kop by throwing the dissentor down five rows of seats, before marauding over them to kick the living daylights out him. Six on to one earlier at the top of Gangway A during the second half. Not to mention that there were kids (two of whom were mine) around. Ironically, we'd been put there after we'd asked to be moved because of the behaviour and general verbal diarrhoea which was polluting our ears in our normal seats.
Those whose grasp of the rules seems to be at the same extent as my grasp of Lingala. These have been growing ever since we started to look like we were going to get promoted, and then rocketed when we actually did go up. Unfortunately, these morons remain still.
Now, I don't like the way that football has become sanitised over the last decade or so, but I just can't be doing with these wankers. It's not even that they're just kids who don't know any better. Some of the blokes who so bravely waded in to beat up one bloke were easily in their forties and fifties.
I really don't need the aggro. I want to go to a match to have a laugh; not to be a crush barrier. It's bad enough that the players can find ways to ruin my weekends, without these arseholes doing it, win, lose or draw.
I'm off to Dronny for the rest of the season to watch Sheffield FC. I know I've said I'd do it before, but Mick Rooker now has my season ticket, and my youngest's (she's only four, so it's pointless her having one if I'm not going), and I don't want them back. I went there last Saturday for the match v Lincoln United (abandoned at half time, leading 1-0), and had a right laugh. Even the walk back in dense fog was a giggle, if a touch cold!
When I compare and contrast the two, there is only one winner for me.