Once a pr*ck

 

Always a pr*ck

One hundred and fifty one and counting.

I'm really trying to get on-board with this latest iteration of the Poppies.  Cut adrift by our cheque-book wielding Chairman we are now a club that needs to generate every penny we spend.  Large numbers of Poppies supporters have come forward with initiatives and money-making ventures.  The club's management board is entirely made up of fellow Poppies fans who are working hard to prepare us for the forthcoming season.  There's stuff going on in the clubhouse every week.  Everyone is being positive and pulling in the same direction.  Even our small online collection of malcontents are either being encouraging or just resting their dumb-ass mouths for the Summer (probably looking forward to the upcoming school holiday?)

I'm really trying to join in and be happy, bouncy and positive.  Honestly.

But it's hard when our fixtures are announced and we have to play f*cking Redditch again.  

Why God, WHY?  Can't we ever just leave them permanently in our rear view mirror?  Is it too much to ask?

Not that I've got an especial problem with Redditch (although I have).  I could just have easily singled out St. Ives or Stratford or Coalville or Alvechurch or Barwell or Royston or Hitchen.  Partly it's depressing we've dropped back down to play these teams again, at their drizzly, grey, insular-minded, sparsely populated hovels (IT'S CALLED IRONY, BEFORE YOU LOSE YOUR SH*T) but mainly because these clubs will all be laying in wait for us to give us a bloody good kick-in after we thought we'd waved goodbye to them forever.  Back then we were the big boys, bolstered by Ritchie's funds.  We put together a great team and took gleeful pleasure in slapping them all around while sauntering to a League triumph.

Now, we return to the Southern League, chastened, leaderless, with an unknown Management and team.  And they'll all be waiting for us.  Angry, tough and bitter.  Ready to give us a, probably well-deserved, battering on their gleaming 4G pitches.  By rights, Telford should be the team everyone targets, but few of the clubs we will be playing will have have much history with them.  No, they'll be scanning the fixture list for the Poppies and the chance to hand out some payback.

It's all so depressing.  Festive period fixtures against Redditch, St Ives and Stratford.  Hand me my pearl-handled revolver now.  Last game of the season we travel to enjoy the hostility of the f*ckwit psychopaths of Nuneaton.  Even our ONE trip to the seaside has been scheduled for a Tuesday night FFS!  If I want to see the sea this season I'm going to have to visit Skegness.  Christ, as if things weren't grim enough already.....

Welcome to Redditch-on-Sea

How Much?! Jeez....

You'll find no-one more desperately unhappy when we were bodily ripped from our true home of Rockingham Road than the Patgod posse.  No-one who wanted to help achieve the unrealisable return to our ancestral home once we were turfed out more than we did.  We signed all the petitions, and took part in all the marches.  We stood outside the Council offices and chanted our lungs raw at our uncaring, hive-minded, bean-counting Tory councillors.

We too looked on with stupefied horror as parts of the stadium were knocked down.  The main stand came down in a screech of grinding metal matched only by our collective screech of horror.  The mighty "K" floodlights were brought majestically to earth with barely a whisper.  Matching our silent disbelief.  While the ground stood there was always hope.  Always the dream of a miraculous return....

The rest of the stadium was cleared away and for the longest time we looked forlornly at the pointless wasteland our beloved former home had become.   "Look what they did to my boy" as Don Corelone once wailed.

Then they started building housing on OUR ground adding the final, flimsy built, shitty-cardboard, rabbit hutch, commuter-scum insult to the indelible injury we had all suffered.

Now this.  We can hardly bring ourselves to look at the pernicious Estate Agent website.  They are looking to parcel up our history and sell it to the highest bidder.  We can barely see through our tears to look at such unapologetic, untarnished, capitalist greed.

 

Mmmm.

That all said, if I knew how stupidly expensive the properties could be I'd have gladly lent a hand and a sledgehammer and helped pulverise our delapidated old dump myself!  

Loadsamoney!  Kerching!