SPLITTER!!!

To understand this article you need to understand a little of my relationship with my late father.  Bear with me.  It'll all make sense.  Hopefully.

My Dad was a non-archetypal armchair Manchester United fan inasmuch as he WAS an armchair MU fan, but rarely chose to actually watch them despite having the full Sky TV package.  If I was watching TV with him and a United game was on he would put it on for me to watch.  He'd watch too, but got almost no enjoyment from the action.  He simply didn't like football that much.  He'd happily watch back-to-back test cricket day-after-day but 90 minutes of football would bore him to tears.  

If the TV was carrying a United game while I was visiting my dad would be straight online with his trusty laptop laying a few small bets on the game to keep his interest.  Next goal scorer.  Number of throw-ins.  Correct full-time scores.  Halftime advantage.  Number of physio visits.  You name it.  He'd have a succession of small punts on it.  

But the thing was, he NEVER bet on United in any of these bets.  He'd always pick the opposition to win most corners, score more goals, win the game, or have most Physio interactions (the last one might be a lie).  He used to say that it bored him to bet on United as he already wanted then to win, but if the opposition succeeded, even though it might disappoint him he felt he'd still make something out of the game by potentially winning the odd bet.

I only mention this because this week for the first ever time, I placed an online bet against the Poppies.  Five minutes into the second half against Bromsgrove no Poppies fan in the ground held out a hope of us holding onto our slender 1 goal lead with 10-men and the home team utterly rampant.  They could have scored three before our coaching staff were fully in their seats at the start of the second half.

I glanced at the odds on my betting app and the odds of a Bromsgrove win were lengthening despite the completely one-sided nature of the game and the charmed life our goal was leading.  Realising the betting app based the odds solely on the scoreline I watched the odds increasing as the half wore on.  Finally I thought, what the hell and put £20 (the cost of the coach to the game which I had left over after the missus pulled out of attending) on Bromsgrove to win.

My thought process was simple.  We win and that would be brilliant.  But, as seemed likely, we lose, I've at least come out with something.  Believe me, I was as gutted as any Poppies fan when they got their second goal well into stoppage time.  All thoughts of wining my bet temporarily evaporated.  But I wasn't so consumed with all-consuming angst that I didn't wisely cash out 30 seconds from the end of the game when we had the chance to aim a long throw into their penalty area.  I didn't want to end up hopping up and down in celebration should we have equalised while at the same time crying over losing a nice wedge....

As we know, the equaliser never came and Bromsgrove celebrated in the appropriate, time-honoured way all teams do when beating Kettering Town.  It's clear Sporting have invested heavily in their club, with a new, lively team, 2 scoreboards, more electric advertising hoardings than I've seen at every other team at this level put together and the proverbial billiard table pitch.  I'm also pleased that the good folk of Bromsgrove turned out in force to support this investment in their club with fully almost 400 of them "packing out" their stadium.  In the event that they are the promoted club from the pack of us that will trail in after Real Bedford come April, I'm sure the National North league will welcome another barely supported, heavily funded club with glee.

And my winnings?  If nothing else, I now know what the expression "blood money" feels like.  It's not nice.  Don't be surprised if it ends up being spent at Latimer Park or on the supporter coach some time soon.