Let’s face it, I am not a man’s man. I will freely admit it. I would consider 3 pints of beer a major drinks binge, I have never stepped foot in a dogs track and I you won’t catch me playing a game of rugby on the XBox, let alone in a muddy field.
I prefer cushions over cigars and Haribo to horses (is that a good analogy?). I do like football and I’m getting married in a few months, so I suppose that qualifies me for Man Points.
I used up the majority of my small collection of Man Points on Friday evening. While most male residents of the country were sat at home, in pubs and clubs watching the England National Football Team take on the immovable force of Lithuania, I was in the theatre watching a musical.
The musical I was enjoying (yes, ENJOYING), was Joseph. When I was invited to watch it some months ago, I was always expecting good things, but I never expected it to be as entertaining as it was. It was such a well done production and the songs were superb – so much so, that after the production, while walking back to the car, we turned around, returned to the theatre and bought the CD. I’m still yet to play it, but when I do, my neighbours will no doubt have to endure the likes of “Joseph and his Multi-coloured Dreamcoat” on repeat throughout the day and night.
Saturday, I restored some masculine pride by visiting Twerton Park to watch Bath City. The referee was atrocious (for a change), so I shouted at him. Lots. It made me feel big and like a man.
On Sunday, any Man Points I racked up by verbally abusing a football official the day before, were soon diminished, when I spent far too long trying to fix the vacuum cleaner and clean the entire house.
I’m back off to football tonight. I’m going to eat a blue rare steak before I leave and also punch a kitten. I’ll feel as butch as Hulk Hogan.
So The X-Files is coming back. Woo-hoo! I am both stupidly excited and pessimistic at the same time. This is going to be either the best or the worst thing ever.
I thought spiders were only supposed to come into the house during the autumn. This one was found in the house inside a duvet. Horror.
This photo isn’t to scale. The spider was actually 50 times bigger than this.
Three weeks ago, I made the very long journey to Humberside to watch Bath City take on North Ferriby. Yesterday’s away day was both a lot closer to home and a far less important than the FA Trophy Semi Final. The result was very much different too…
The Trophy game ended in great disappointment – losing on penalties and missing out on a trip to Wembley Stadium. Yesterday, Bath City beat Farnborough 7-2. Yes, that isn’t a typo, I did write SEVEN.
Normally I would be singing from rooftops after such a resounding victory. While it was great to see City win and score seven goals, the score line didn’t reflect the performance. You would expect us to have played the game of our lives and shat all over ‘Boro’. Granted, we did defecate on our opposition, but it wasn’t a vintage Bath City performance. We weren’t bad. Far from it. But we weren’t great either. Farnborough were awful. Just awful. They couldn’t have been worse had they tried. In fact, if it wasn’t for their goalkeeper, we could have brought the score line into double figures.
We were probably 5-1 up at this point – just before half time!
While I was very pleased with the win, I also felt a little sorry. I was sorry for Farnborough. If anyone could define a football club in a mess, it is them. They have a really nice clubhouse and their Cherrywood Road ground is lovely. However, the players looked totally disinterested. I have never played or even watched a Sunday League football game, but I can imagine what the squad of ‘The Dog and Duck’ would look like after a heavy night out on the tiles. The team wouldn’t want to be there. They would feel unwell, unfit and unloved. That is how Farnborough appeared yesterday afternoon.
Nice stand. Such a shame it’s hardly used.
As well as sorrow, it also made me worried how a non-league football club can fall into such a dire situation. Bath City are not immune from disaster by any means. The club is currently in the process of being sold to a community group. I love the idea of fan-ownership, but am concerned by the fact over a million pounds needs to be raised to complete the buyout. What if the club isn’t sold? Will we end up like Farnborough… or worse?
Jesus wept.
Getting back to more positive things, City’s seven goals were well taken, although many of the goals were partly down to Farnborough’s inept defending. The win is also three points, and while we cannot go up or down (official members of ‘The Nothing To Play For League’), victory is always good – especially away from home.
Our victory made national news. Clearly down to the score line, rather than the performance. Bath City were this week’s ‘Non-League Team of the Day’ on BBC FiveLive’s football phone-in show, 606. I like to take part credit for this, after contacting the radio station through Twitter, to nominate City. While it was nice to hear my local club mentioned on air; and bizarrely, our striker, Nick McCootie interviewed, I was left feeling annoyed and offended, when Robbie Savage and his idiot mate, referred to us as ‘Team Bath’. For crying out loud!
3 months today, I will be a married man. To put this into perspective of how close this is, 3 months ago I was eating mince pies and preparing for Christmas. Eek!
About Me
So you stumbled across my blog. No doubt after searching for something bizarre on Google. Before you hit that 'Back Button', why not stay and have a read for a few minutes?
If you are after a website which gives advice on how to hack an iPhone X, download the latest Steven Seagal movie, or view nudy ladies, you've come to the wrong place and may now press 'Back'.
However, if you would like a lifestyle blog, written by a 30-something chap, living in Bath (England), feast your eyes on this.
You won't discover how to copy PlayStation 4 games. What you will find is a blog, covering life in the West Country, the highs and lows of supporting two unsuccessful football teams, while sharing a house with a wife and rabbit.
All written by a man, somewhere on the sanity-scale between normal and eccentric.
