|ennui : |
a feeling of utter weariness and discontent
resulting from satiety or lack of interest; boredom.
This one didn't.
That the opposition were Witton Albion, a team famed in some circles for having moany, wingey-arsed fans, probably didn't help. And there is no doubt that my pre-match meal set me off on the wrong foot. But you don't want to become embroiled in that particular aspect of my personal hell.
In the course of my travels, I have seen some pretty ropey games. And this one was by no means the worst of them. But I have seen some far less technically able players put in a decent performance, on equally poor pitches. And I have seen referees more in charge, with a greater understanding of the game.
|A smiling puppy. For karma.|
And it evidently didn't for the players. Barely a pass reached it's target all night. When it did, the following one almost certainly did not. Balls were launched down theoretical channels to target men who had long since run in the opposite direction. Midfielders ran around like headless chickens. Forwards stood isolated and dispirited as defenders headed clear for the umpteenth time.
It is often said that attendances drop the lower down you go because the football is poorer. And then a misguided poet will chime in, eulogising about effort and heart and other such nonsense. No. Players find their level, and the odd moment of brilliance / luck aside, they're not that good. Light years better than most of us, of course. But still a bit ropey.
Normally you can excuse this because they are wearing a shirt you care about, or the sum of their parts is greater than it should be. But every now and again the stars align and nothing but nothing can make a silk purse from what is witnessed.
Undersea Poem - "Makes Me Happy" from Six Degrees Records .