Cod Almighty | Diary

The dangers of hardcore mourn

16 September 2022

My name is BOTB Diary and I am a Townaholic.

I sometimes wonder if my life would have been different had I not become addicted to my hometown club or even, perhaps more pertinently, if my personality was suited to the emotional rollercoaster of lower division football. I hate losing, for a start, and there is inevitably going to be a fair bit of that going down. But, this is the big question – do I hate losing more than I love winning?

When we win, I feel a sense of contentment and satisfaction, but I don't tend to think about it that much. Yay, we won. I can get on with life. Everything is fine. But when we lose, I find myself mulling over refereeing decisions, team selection, moments of bad luck – despite having absolutely no control over any of these things.

Doubtless life coaches would look at me askance and ask how my mental state can be so affected by things utterly out my control. I have to remind myself that if I went and lived as a hermit in a cave on Mount Kilimanjaro for a year, the outcome of Town's season would not alter one jot for my absence. Football's gonna football.

But then, isn't life like that? We get upset because it rains on the day of the wedding, because we become ill, because loved ones die. The amount of things we ourselves can control is very small compared to the universal forces that shape our lives. Yet I've never heard anyone say it's pointless getting upset because someone robbed your house, or a drunk driver crashed into your car, or you caught Covid and missed your holiday.

Football fans or not, we spend a lot of time getting irritated, appalled and furious about things over which we have no control or influence. And the great thing about football – and it pains me to say this – is that most of it doesn't matter in the long run. Last time we lost to Scunthorpe – I really can't remember when that was – there would have been a lot of ruined weekends for Town fans. But, a few years later, how are things looking with regard to our local rivals?

The emotions football fans have are genuine, but in a way, they are play emotions. Deep down we know that our team losing won't kill anybody, or cause a fuel crisis, or add to global warming. We are exercising our emotions in a harmless way, the same as you are when you cry at the end of Watership Down despite the fact that you know full well that Hazel is a made-up rabbit and his spirit didn't decide to leave his body on a ditch bank because he didn't need it any more. Sniff.

Did you go to the Gillingham match? I thought Gillingham were better than I expected, given their start. They matched our fitness and work ethic so we were unable to steamroller them in the later stages like we have with a lot of teams in the past year or so. I'm still not happy about our forward line though. Sometimes you just need a big, ugly, dirty, fouly bastard up there and we don't have that option.

I warned you last week that mass hysteria can last a long time. I never thought I'd see a greater piece of fawning than when Prince Philip was described as a "great sportsman" by someone on the BBC a few days after his death, but this week has set new records of plain old fruitbattery all over the shop. Students of psychology will have seen a lot to interest them: corgi owners convinced their dogs had been in mourning, clouds that apparently looked like the queen, the Met Office telling us they were only doing one forecast a day out of 'respect' and CenterParcs trying to kick people out of their holiday homes for a day. And that was just the tip of the psychotic iceberg.

Luckily Town's game against Colchester tomorrow is going ahead, though doubtless some nutter somewhere will be tutting. You know what I say? Forget the tutting nutters! Life goes on. Hopefully with three points. Have a great weekend everybody.

UTM!