Incredible Sulk Part: 283

As I set off across the A671 from Burnley to Rochdale on Saturday evening, radio on, Air Con cool, I barely settled before Dirk Kyut scores and its one-up against the Spurs.

It could have been 2 or even 3 before half time; such was the dominance of the Reds, going for their ninth win in 11 Premier League games this season. The odds favoured Rafa’s men; unbeaten in the Premiership for more than 8 months, stretching to 28 games and a whole lot more. As the commentators rolled off the stats, it seemed Spurs would remain rooted to the bottom of the league for the time being.

An hour later as I sat in a house full of kids, sipping my coffee, I realised it was time to check on the scores. I wasn’t worried; it must be at least 3 or even 4 by now. So imagine my shock. 1-1 and 78 minutes gone. There wasn’t much I could do. I couldn’t swear or shout or look angry, I was there to make small talk. Still, I’d settle for that, I thought. Spurs clearly are a team with a lot of belief at the moment and players are eager to please the new boss.
Fast forward 15 minutes and I have just settled back into the car and headed for Manchester. On came the radio and shock! Horror! We lost the game.
I turned the radio off and there started yet another sulk that lasted until about half an hour ago.
My sulks are legendary. They are inevitably set of by a defeat of the Reds. I find it incredibly hard to cope in the immediate aftermath of a defeat. It hasn’t got any better over the years. In 23 years of supporting Liverpool, I have had to suffer from my sulk a total of 283 times. The worst by far was losing the league to the Gooners in 1989 in the last game of the season, on goal difference. There have been many more over the years but Saturday night hurt a lot. I’m not sure why it did so as much as did because whilst it was a defeat, it was a mere blip. I didn’t buy the paper on Sunday, Monday or Tuesday. I kept the radio switched off and did not watch any sports channels. I do this every time we lose. It’s so hard to take. I try and rationalise my behaviour but I can’t, it’s been happening for far too long and I know me.
If I did have to explain myself, then maybe it’s the fact that for the first time 19 years we look like we can win the Premier League we so covet. Maybe it’s the fact that the wife supports Spurs and I can’t have her get one over me!
So here I am consoling myself after another nail-biting finish. Once again Gerrard rescues a point against Athletico Madrid. It was one-sided match. We had more than 2-dozen shots on target and failed to find the net until Gerrard put away the controversial penalty. Just as I was about to go into sulk number 284, I was saved. I was saved yet another 3 or 4 days of a foul mood. I would have had to avoid the papers, the radio and TV and annoy everyone around me. I would have to tip-toe around my 3-month old daughter.
So tomorrow morning, I will buy the paper and watch Sky Sports and look at the league table and wonder what could have been on Saturday night. I will look at how we could have been top, count the goal difference and work out how many points we will pick up in the coming weeks. Incredible sulk number 283 will be forgotten and hope will give way to the despair and pain of Saturday evening.

Who said football didn’t matter?