Apologies for the silence but I’m off for a stag weekend of paintballing, dogs, naked women and a whole load of alcohol in about three minutes. With any luck I’ll return with some money, my fingers, my bagels in tact and a whole lot of stories. So for now, the bagel in brief.
It’s not exactly looking wonderful right now as we sit at an equidistant 13 points from heaven and hell, that is, between the Champions League and West Ham and relegation. The positive way to look at this is that it’s nice and tight and anything can happen. The negative is of course that’s it’s nice and tight and anything can happen. One man who’s certainly one for the silver lining is Didier Zee. Check this:
“It’s going to be hard to grab fourth but we still believe in it. It’s crucial to always believe, especially since we still have many matches left.”
Oh yes. Yes, this feels like match day all right. My mouth is like leather. My tongue more like that of a shoe, a Clarks t-bar sandal as it goes. My hand reaches out in the uncertain hope that I had the sense, no the arse, to pour myself some water before diving for the comfort of a mattress. Eyes closed, the familiar sound of a nearly knocked glass halts my search and I realise I’ve found gold, liquid gold, something better; close by refreshment allowing my brain to go under again before I force it awake, before a trip to the kitchen and all the time and thought it would take to interrupt my dreams, my unconsciousness and let the seeds of a pounding hangover begin to take root in my mind.
Today’s started well already. Glass of water, shoes off, contact lenses removed and I’m able to drift away again to the land of a painless slumber.
But more on that in a minute. Don’t worry, it’s purely platonic, well on The Bagel’s part anyway.
The bad new of the day is that as I’m sure we were all beginning to realise, the injury to Ledley’s foot is a little more serious than had been thought. A bruise it may well have started as but now, under the strain of the first stages of training, it’s turned in to a stress fracture. Never has there been a more aptly named condition. We’ll all be feeling the heat and counting every day until it heals and I hope you’re good at maths because the word on the street is that it’s going to take eight long Leddersless weeks.
I remember the morning Michael Carrick left the club. With heavy hands I wrote that daily bread but by the end of my report my heart felt all the better, my soul a little cleansed. I’m hoping the same as I write this now.
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