15th September
In the very recent past, a friend has pointed out to me that a) I have very little time left to write today's blog and b) I should write about my anger at Manchester United's performance in their 2-1 defeat to PSV Eindhoven in the Champions League this evening.
He's referring to a tweet in which I described their performance as "absolutely fucking pathetic", which came about 45 seconds prior to the full time whistle. A little while ago, I instituted a policy of not letting football affect my moods or emotions outside of the 90 minutes I spent watching my team (teams really but Christ, let's not get into that now). So tonight's outburst was at the very least by the book.
It means I don't need to dwell on the staggering ineptitude of Juan Mata and his failure to know what to do with the ball when four yards out from the opposition goal. Nor the generally pedestrian performance when United had 33 minutes left to get back into the game, when previous incarnations of the team would have removed the kitchen sink with a view to using it as a weapon. Nor the fact that the performance forced me to agree with Michael Owen's co-commentary which under most circumstances, I would happily see replaced by a washing machine on a moderate spin cycle.
Or that United have assembled a squad using the equivalent of a small nation's GDP and are incapable of getting a result away from home against an average European side. Nor will I think about Luke Shaw's horrendous double leg fracture which will probably result in United losing their best performer so far for the remainder of the season.
I'll return to getting annoyed at my immune system, which seems equally pathetic.
He's referring to a tweet in which I described their performance as "absolutely fucking pathetic", which came about 45 seconds prior to the full time whistle. A little while ago, I instituted a policy of not letting football affect my moods or emotions outside of the 90 minutes I spent watching my team (teams really but Christ, let's not get into that now). So tonight's outburst was at the very least by the book.
It means I don't need to dwell on the staggering ineptitude of Juan Mata and his failure to know what to do with the ball when four yards out from the opposition goal. Nor the generally pedestrian performance when United had 33 minutes left to get back into the game, when previous incarnations of the team would have removed the kitchen sink with a view to using it as a weapon. Nor the fact that the performance forced me to agree with Michael Owen's co-commentary which under most circumstances, I would happily see replaced by a washing machine on a moderate spin cycle.
Or that United have assembled a squad using the equivalent of a small nation's GDP and are incapable of getting a result away from home against an average European side. Nor will I think about Luke Shaw's horrendous double leg fracture which will probably result in United losing their best performer so far for the remainder of the season.
I'll return to getting annoyed at my immune system, which seems equally pathetic.
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