Cod Almighty | Diary

Goalkeeper to ravage Constable? (5,7)

4 February 2016

"People aged 40-59 are the least happy and the most anxious, report finds" reads the Guardian headline. Middle-Aged Diary nods his head feelingly.

"The [Office for National Statistics] report suggests that the multiplying responsibilities of middle age could be taking a toll on people". Those responsibilities, the report suggests, might include looking after children and ageing parents. Strangely, it omits the burden of supporting a football team forever among a group of favourites to regain what people are happy to tell us is our rightful status.

Curtis Woodhouse is the latest to tell us we "deserve to be back in the Football League". It's a phrase that is well-intentioned, but has hellish implications. What a club deserves is usually determined on the football pitch. Yes, the stature of a club is more than its current league position, but relatively large crowds don't in themselves earn points and promotions. So it is nice to have third parties console us – but it is dangerous if it breeds a sense of entitlement.

Football should be a release from the burdens of middle age, but it isn't. It's something else to worry about. And being aware of the expectations of others, even as you are aware of your powerlessness to meet those expectations, is one of the biggest sources of anxiety.

Most sports fans have tricks to manage their expectations. Among the standards my son teases me about when I trot them out are "I've a nasty feeling we're going to slip up today"; "Town are always useless against 10 men"; and "2-0 is a dangerous lead". These are nothing more than valueless expressions of my own fragile psyche, especially when what I am commenting on is not the action itself but the news on the videoprinter. I'd not dream of sharing them with strangers who have their own stresses to cope with.

Which leaves me feeling disgruntled when I have to bear such comments every time Town play, or our manager fails to land a major new signing. Nowadays, thanks to messageboards and Twitter, you can broadcast every stray thought that enters your skull. That's not to say, however, that you should.