So! Hot off the press, my beloved Swansea City have been drawn away to Queens Park Rangers in the third round of the FA Cup.
My reaction? Meh.
I said a number of years ago that being a Premier League team ruined the FA Cup for me. Gone were the days where any one of 20 teams could cause my testicles to shrink to the size of raisens. Nowadays it’s “oh, we’re playing Manchester United…again…” [yawn]
A friend’s dad nearly choked on his own spit when I said “I’m bored of being a Premier League team now. The novelty has worn off.” Two years in the Championship and it still hasn’t.
These days, about five teams could get me excited in the FA Cup and they are: Shrewsbury Town (because it’s a 45 minute drive away), Wrexham (Welsh derby, five minute drive), Telford United (55 minute drive, can park on uncle’s driveway), Norwich City (girlfriend from there. We’ve lost both times we’ve played them since we’ve been together) and Cardiff (because it’s Cardiff).
Aside from that, my nipples ain’t get perky. I’m sorry.
The draw itself isn’t a bad one. They smashed us in the league last year. We beat them on their own turf this season already, but that was before Steve won Manager of the Month and it all went to shit. It’s winnable.
Maybe we’ll get a good run again, maybe even make the Quarter Final for the third year in a row.
But I’m unlikely to get excited before round five.
Unless we draw Shrewsbury of course.
Published by Liam Pritchard
I am a writer and a poet.
I say that but, actually, I’m one of those annoying breed of people who pretentiously call themselves writers and/or poets but don’t actually do any writing and stay depressed at their lack of productivity. Far more accurate would be to say that I am an arrogant, ill informed and over opinionated sod with an under developed ability to sense when he’s not funny.
But “writer and poet” sounds better and I’m sticking with it.
A friend – clearly fed up with my moaning about never producing any body of writing – suggested that I start a blog. My first reaction was “what the **** am I going to write about that anyone will want to read?”
Then it dawned on me that it is fairly certain no one will ever read a single word I say on here. But that’s fine. I’m used to talking to myself. In school, I used to spend hours imagining I was a dragon who ran his own restaurant. Or, while playing “mummies and daddies,” I once proclaimed myself Granddad, shipped myself off to war, was promptly shot and killed and lay there dead for the rest of play time (and the entirely of the subsequent three play times).
Don’t get me wrong. I had friends. Or at least I don’t recall being conscious of not having friends. I just used to spend a lot of time in my own little world.
Not a lot has changed really.
So! If you’re a real life human being who has stumbled across my little blog: erm, sorry! You’re really not getting these wasted minutes of your life back. I can’t even offer you photos of grumpy cats to compensate you.
Peace and love! xx
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