I guess the mental scars from Friday may take a while to heal, indeed if they ever heal at all. Not only did I smash into Europe to win the Ryder Cup at 15/8, I also had to take part in a ‘Team Building Day’ at work.
Is there anything worse than forced fun? The mantra for the day was have fun, right now, or else. I’ve seen some bad s**t over the years and was in Marseille this summer during the infamous carry-on between England and Russia at Euro 2016. But I felt more comfortable over there stood amongst the tear gas __with chairs whizzing over my head than I did watching one of our admin workers trying to tap dance.
I just find it a bit mental how some people feel compelled to push their idea of a good time onto others. I’m 37 for f**k’s sake. I don’t want to hula-hoop. If you want me to be happy and increase productivity let me work like a badger Friday morning then give me the afternoon off so I can watch the golf in my pants while eating cheese and pickled onions.
*****
I spent Saturday in Grimsby after going down there to watch Hartlepool engage the Mighty Mariners in League Two action. The fixture has been dubbed ‘El Codico’ on account of the sea fishing heritage of the respective towns. Actually I’ve just made that last bit up but it’s always a decent day out down on the east coast.
My plan was not to have a drink until midday to try and pace myself but when a lad offered me a can of icy cold Strongbow Dark Fruits Cider just before 9am I folded and all bets were off. We were instructed by the police to drink in a boozer called Waves. The staff were friendly but the place had clearly seen better days and the bogs were on par __with that khazi in the movie Trainspotting.
Thankfully the game was better than the toilets and Hartlepool romped to a 3-0 win, the final goal an impudent chip from outside the area by young sorcerer Nathan Thomas.
My treble for the day – Liverpool, Chelsea and Birmingham – also hosed up so I was buzzing my chebs off on the drive home. What a contrast. From the forced fun of Friday to genuine, effortless tomfoolery a day later. I felt like I could climb Mount Everest in my slippers. And there wasn’t a tap dancer in sight.
*****
Yet while Saturday was great, Sunday was an absolute freak show of a day. I awoke with the classic irrational symptoms of ‘The Fear’. A sense of booze-induced impending doom for no reason in particular and a thorough conviction that major organisations were out to get me.
There had been one ludicrous incident in Grimsby to somewhat taint the day where three clowns out of our mini bus had jumped off the bus and started fighting with some locals (two of whom were carrying Heron bags!). It was embarrassing and although I was in no shape or form involved in any part of said shambolic incident I convinced myself that the Feds were gearing up to come through my door and land me with a moody six stretch. I even began googling ‘Prisons near Grimsby’. The ominous feelings of angst and self loathing were not helped by the fact I was haemorrhaging money at a ridiculous rate.
I backed Manchester United to beat Stoke in a double with Under 2.5 goals in the Leicester – Southampton match. Sh**e. I smashed into So Di Mar, who sank without trace at Chantilly and also spuffed £140 on Postponed for the Arc (finished a distant fifth). I chased on Barcelona and it just about summed the day up when they scored three away to Celta Vigo, but still lost.
Incidentally can someone tell me the last weekend when Barca, Bayern Munich, Borussia Dortmund, Real Madrid, Manchester United, Manchester City and Grimsby all failed to win please? Seriously man the bookies must have been doing some serious white water wristing given the amount of favourites that were turned over.
Cheeky’s Punt of the Week: Scunthorpe to beat Northampton at 4/5 (Paddy Power)