The Only Way Is Up
It is a truth universally acknowledged - or hypothesised by me, anyway - that when things are all running smoothly and you feel you can handle anything Life throws at you, Life muscles in and bites you on the arse, slaps you round the face, then kicks you headlong into the gutter before sniggering and sauntering away.
So I've temporarily locked life away in a tamper-proof box and am resorting to late-night blogging and, of course, football until I can be arsed to go and open the lid again.
So forget all this World Cup mallarky; that's old news. The real thing kicks off in a matter of days, and I shall soon be pootling off to Torquay to watch for myself. Oh yes, it doesn't get any better than that.
And my self-worth did peep round the doorway and toy with the idea of maybe moving back in for a while when, having sent a letter months ago to Bradford's fanzine with this very suggestion, I read this on City's website today. In case you care (I have it on authority that at least one of you does...) they are bringing back the strip worn in 1911, the year the Mighty Bantams won the FA Cup. The replica strip is going to be worn at cup matches this season, to commemorate the days when we were, um, good. Admittedly it's hard not to dwell on the fact that the reason the anniversary is so important is that we've done pretty much bugger all since, but all the same...
What would make it an even better commemoration, though, would be if "Speirs" could be printed on the back of the fans' shirts. Jimmy Speirs scored the winning goal that day. He was killed in 1917, at the Battle of Passhendale.
I received an email the other day from an old friend who'd joined the army straight from school. The email said "I'm now a banker, which is a sell-out, but it's better that being shot at." It sure is, and on reading it I felt flooded with almost physical relief that he was safe and well. I'm soppy like that; I'm an idealist; I'm naive; I'm basically an idiot.
And I am City to the core.
And I don't understand why, 100 years on from the victory of which we're so proud, we're still sending men to remote parts of the world to shoot the crap out of each other and blow one another up.
Oh well, here's to this season - and the only way is up.
So I've temporarily locked life away in a tamper-proof box and am resorting to late-night blogging and, of course, football until I can be arsed to go and open the lid again.
So forget all this World Cup mallarky; that's old news. The real thing kicks off in a matter of days, and I shall soon be pootling off to Torquay to watch for myself. Oh yes, it doesn't get any better than that.
And my self-worth did peep round the doorway and toy with the idea of maybe moving back in for a while when, having sent a letter months ago to Bradford's fanzine with this very suggestion, I read this on City's website today. In case you care (I have it on authority that at least one of you does...) they are bringing back the strip worn in 1911, the year the Mighty Bantams won the FA Cup. The replica strip is going to be worn at cup matches this season, to commemorate the days when we were, um, good. Admittedly it's hard not to dwell on the fact that the reason the anniversary is so important is that we've done pretty much bugger all since, but all the same...
What would make it an even better commemoration, though, would be if "Speirs" could be printed on the back of the fans' shirts. Jimmy Speirs scored the winning goal that day. He was killed in 1917, at the Battle of Passhendale.
I received an email the other day from an old friend who'd joined the army straight from school. The email said "I'm now a banker, which is a sell-out, but it's better that being shot at." It sure is, and on reading it I felt flooded with almost physical relief that he was safe and well. I'm soppy like that; I'm an idealist; I'm naive; I'm basically an idiot.
And I am City to the core.
And I don't understand why, 100 years on from the victory of which we're so proud, we're still sending men to remote parts of the world to shoot the crap out of each other and blow one another up.
Oh well, here's to this season - and the only way is up.
Labels: Bradford, Bradford City
posted by RLS at 11:18 pm
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