I have to say I have had a well-rounded thirty years of Norwich City season tickets on the bounce. It doesn’t make me a better supporter than you, MFW readers, just an older one.
Both my ankles are shot, and I also have another rather awkward condition to deal with, although it doesn’t affect my attendance. You deal with it – you have to. It isn’t life-threatening and doesn’t involve a medical accessory.
But getting to the ground is becoming increasingly difficult for me. No mobo scooter, no walking stick. I don’t do stuff like that. But still plain bloody awkward and occasionally painful.
Walking down Prince of Wales I bumped into a couple of very pleasant Leeds fans who had adopted pink polo shirts and in one case trainers also. A sarcastic tribute to our dressing room. We had a good laugh about it, shook hands and I moved on. I really should have taken a picture of them, but my reporter’s instinct is fading.
As for the match? We came out like a steam train and waited for the wheels to fall off.
They picked us off at will. Sorry, but they did, and we got what we deserved. Zilch.
Gary highlighted one or two players individually yesterday, but I will not do so today. We lost to a far superior side.
I hated the second half of that match with a vengeance. We were not at the races. Come on, we were not, were we?
Personally, I couldn’t give a monkey’s crutch stick about the Carabao Cup encounter with Cardiff. I know folks will disagree with me. Hopefully Ben God,frey will get some game time. Or “minutes” as the trendy term is now.
But on Sunday what comes along – the chance for eleven in a row unbeaten against that lot. The trouble is we have so few players in situ that understand the meaning of this game; in the true sense of understanding.
Our performance against Leeds occasionally sparkled but it never ignited.
The amount of people who left when the third goal went in – a wonderful finish from Pablo Hernandez – was significant. We had a few spells of chest-beating scattered throughout the game but as soon as Mateusz Klich fired home from Tim Krul’s ill-judged punch the outcome was pretty much inevitable.
Finally, a closing sentence I thought I’d never write: Well done Leeds – and you weren’t dirty today.