For the last 15 years, due to chronic illness, I have tended to mostly only go to games in the autumn and spring, and miss the winter; indeed, I don’t leave the house too much at all during the darker months. With an impaired immune system, the coldness can be crippling, and so yes, these days, I am a fair-weathered fan.
So when, in mid-February, the other two of our match-going trio of mates (dating back to the 1990s) suggested we all go to this one, I thought: yeah, my body can handle a warm spring game. Which, as a decision, proved about as perceptive as Abraham Lincoln thinking “this is a perfect night to go to the theatre and get a bite to eat afterwards”.
Still, my decision definitely had the happier ending; there was no Mo Salah to lift Lincoln’s spirits 152 years ago. And so here is my contribution to the TTT series “My Day At The Match”.
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