Bus-Conductor
SC Supporter
- Oct 19, 2004
- 39,837
- 50,713
IF you wanted to pick a scenario with more glory, would it possible to beat what we did in February at Wembley. Realistacally.
We started by vanquishing our most hated enemy in the semi finals. Not just a scrappy flukey thing but a fucking full blooded mullering. Could football be better. well for me yes, it got better.
Against a team I hate. I have always hated Chelsea because I was from the age of 7 a south London boy. Not for me the regular raw abrasive of arsenal playground rivalry (most of the gooners I knew were actually thoroughly nice chaps who waranted very little animosity). All the pricks (some of which were very good mates which as you know makes it even harder to take) were chelsea.
This was enjoyable when we were in the ascendency (which was most of 1972-1994) but became ever more unbearable from 1994 onwards, with the darkest moment comng on holiday in Corsica in summer 2003 when reading in a day old newspaper that far from going in to the expected liquidation, chelsea had in fact been bought by one of the worlds richest men. I wore my black trunks to Polumbagia beach that day.
So, fast forward throungh about 17 years of fucking 3 point lane etc. through chelsea becoming the richest team in world football. Through to us playing said team in a cup final at the new, monstrously big, norman foster designed, massively over budgeted, but still hard to piss in WEMBLEY.
Fuck Pompey v Cardiff. Or any other recent cup final for that matter. Seldom has there been a cup final between two sides who hate each other more (certainly from a fan perspective).
The ambitious spurs against the uber rich chelsea side that had ground and steamrolered it's way to success over the last few years. The team with a tradition of football, of doing things the right way. Of passing the ball and keeping possession but who had experienced a difficult season for and this game had become make or break, all or nothing against the team that had had become synonimous with winning ugly, of grinding the opposition, of taking advantage of such frailties as we were experiencing.
What happened next.
Well we played them off the park. I sat there - high up in the clouds of the top tier - watching as the we played like lions and chelsea were like the puny quivering christians.
Of course we made it harder for ourselves largely thanks to our keeper. But despite this we kept playing the football. Dminating the most expensively assembled team in history.
Our moody centre forward stroked his penalty away like Arthur Pauloerelli jump starting the juke box at Arnolds diner.
Our support had been far more fervant for the whole game already anyway. following the goal Mentalness ensued. A sense of deserving relief mixed with the usual goal (and goal against a good side) euphoria followed.
The team kept playing. Kept winning everything in midfield. Especially Zokora - the much maligned - Zokora. He seemed to be everywhere. Intercepting everything. He intercepts then bursts through following a one-two with keane. Please score, you of all people today deserve to score. Please shut all the doubters up. this is typical fotball. The player who never scores wins the final. no.
We keep playing the football. Extra time. we played later in the week than them. Surely this will cost us.
We score again. stratasferic bullisticness. orgasmatronic footballness at it's supremness. Would I swap this goal for a shag with my dream celebrity on a yacht docked just off Brarbados's west cost. Fuck no. Fuck no fucking way.
I want to beat these ****'s way more than that. Here today. I want to rub out 14 years of pisstake, twemtysomething games of feeling robbed and dejected.
Lets fucking have it. Lets kick there arse on the pitch, off the pitch and do it in style at the first big wembley do, with the world watching.
I was at the 1981 final and replay. and many subsequent other finals and finer moments. But the way we payed, and who we played in February this year has to go down as our finest moment for probably 40+ years.
We didn't squeek a final against leicester or Man City. We turned up. We bosssed a great team who wanted it too.
We won it the spurs (and I know there is alot of bullshit attached to that phrase) way. Playing football.
The way we achieved our other notable successes.
We dared. We fucking did.
Lets revel in it a little bit. It's what has kept some of us around all this time.
We started by vanquishing our most hated enemy in the semi finals. Not just a scrappy flukey thing but a fucking full blooded mullering. Could football be better. well for me yes, it got better.
Against a team I hate. I have always hated Chelsea because I was from the age of 7 a south London boy. Not for me the regular raw abrasive of arsenal playground rivalry (most of the gooners I knew were actually thoroughly nice chaps who waranted very little animosity). All the pricks (some of which were very good mates which as you know makes it even harder to take) were chelsea.
This was enjoyable when we were in the ascendency (which was most of 1972-1994) but became ever more unbearable from 1994 onwards, with the darkest moment comng on holiday in Corsica in summer 2003 when reading in a day old newspaper that far from going in to the expected liquidation, chelsea had in fact been bought by one of the worlds richest men. I wore my black trunks to Polumbagia beach that day.
So, fast forward throungh about 17 years of fucking 3 point lane etc. through chelsea becoming the richest team in world football. Through to us playing said team in a cup final at the new, monstrously big, norman foster designed, massively over budgeted, but still hard to piss in WEMBLEY.
Fuck Pompey v Cardiff. Or any other recent cup final for that matter. Seldom has there been a cup final between two sides who hate each other more (certainly from a fan perspective).
The ambitious spurs against the uber rich chelsea side that had ground and steamrolered it's way to success over the last few years. The team with a tradition of football, of doing things the right way. Of passing the ball and keeping possession but who had experienced a difficult season for and this game had become make or break, all or nothing against the team that had had become synonimous with winning ugly, of grinding the opposition, of taking advantage of such frailties as we were experiencing.
What happened next.
Well we played them off the park. I sat there - high up in the clouds of the top tier - watching as the we played like lions and chelsea were like the puny quivering christians.
Of course we made it harder for ourselves largely thanks to our keeper. But despite this we kept playing the football. Dminating the most expensively assembled team in history.
Our moody centre forward stroked his penalty away like Arthur Pauloerelli jump starting the juke box at Arnolds diner.
Our support had been far more fervant for the whole game already anyway. following the goal Mentalness ensued. A sense of deserving relief mixed with the usual goal (and goal against a good side) euphoria followed.
The team kept playing. Kept winning everything in midfield. Especially Zokora - the much maligned - Zokora. He seemed to be everywhere. Intercepting everything. He intercepts then bursts through following a one-two with keane. Please score, you of all people today deserve to score. Please shut all the doubters up. this is typical fotball. The player who never scores wins the final. no.
We keep playing the football. Extra time. we played later in the week than them. Surely this will cost us.
We score again. stratasferic bullisticness. orgasmatronic footballness at it's supremness. Would I swap this goal for a shag with my dream celebrity on a yacht docked just off Brarbados's west cost. Fuck no. Fuck no fucking way.
I want to beat these ****'s way more than that. Here today. I want to rub out 14 years of pisstake, twemtysomething games of feeling robbed and dejected.
Lets fucking have it. Lets kick there arse on the pitch, off the pitch and do it in style at the first big wembley do, with the world watching.
I was at the 1981 final and replay. and many subsequent other finals and finer moments. But the way we payed, and who we played in February this year has to go down as our finest moment for probably 40+ years.
We didn't squeek a final against leicester or Man City. We turned up. We bosssed a great team who wanted it too.
We won it the spurs (and I know there is alot of bullshit attached to that phrase) way. Playing football.
The way we achieved our other notable successes.
We dared. We fucking did.
Lets revel in it a little bit. It's what has kept some of us around all this time.
