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When I was little and I would beg my parents to buy me a Soda Stream, they would always wheel out the tired line that giving me everything I asked for would turn me into an entitled brat. Childhood Me wasn’t convinced and thought they were just trying to fob me off, or perhaps they were just too old and uncool to appreciate the stigma of being the ONLY ONE of my social circle who didn’t have a Soda Stream. Now, however, I find myself saying the same to my nieces and nephews, my students, any kids who care to listen (and plenty who don’t). They always want other things, of course, since none of them know what a Soda Stream is.

As we filed out of the Gtech Community Stadium in near-silence after our draw against Leicester, the muted atmosphere was palpable. We all thought we would win, didn’t we? Our star has very much been on the rise for the last fourteen games, apart from that one cosmic blip at Goodison Park, whereas Leicester’s star … well … hasn’t. Obviously losing a lead is a frustrating thing, but the dour faces and cowed body language was such that any outside observer would have been forgiven for thinking we’d just lost.

What happened? Have the wins against the big boys turned us into entitled brats who now aren’t happy with second prize? Don’t get me wrong, I’ll still happily take those big wins – in fact, Manchester United at home, Liverpool at home and City away have been some of my best football days, ever – but maybe a draw against less-sexy Leicester just isn’t as exciting as it would have been when we were that newly-promoted, eager-to-please, excitable lion cub who hadn’t yet been trained in Premier League ways?

Let’s flash back to the first game of the season: Leicester away. We went along expecting to be royally clobbered, and that was certainly the way it seemed to be going for a while, especially after their 46th-minute goal. But then Ivan Toney happened. And then Josh Dasilva happened. That draw felt like the the Soda Stream PLUS all the syrupy, diabetes-triggering accoutrements, and such was our joy that, during the car journey home and several beers down, the husband decided that it would be a good idea to phone 606 on Radio 5 Live. (Don’t worry, he was the passenger and not the driver.)

The callers prior to the husband were irate Manchester United fans, fuming after their loss against Brighton, and whose sophisticated openers were, “What I wanna know is: why can’t Man U get any good players?” and, “What I wanna know is: why is [insert name of United player] so crap?” Cut to the husband, the only caller who wasn’t angry, and his refreshing contribution was, “I’m Nick and I’m a Brentford fan. We’ve just had a great result!”

If you haven’t listened to 606 before, it’s very likely that, after my description, you won’t bother; it’s far from being the height of scholarly discussion. However, I wish I’d tuned in the following week, when the United fans who thought they were at rock bottom, were handed a shovel and told to dig to the Earth’s core.

Now, before you say anything, I know that being in a three-point position and losing two isn’t the same as being in a zero-point position and gaining one. But the end result was still the same: a point against Leicester, one-time league champions. Not quite the Soda Stream, but certainly the promise that, if we continue to be good and do as we’re told, we could earn the Soda Stream at a later date. When we were languishing in the lower leagues (before my time but I have heard all about it from a friend who has been a Bees fan for sixty years), we would have given anything for a point against a Premier League side.

As some clever person once said, “Celebrate that you are living a life that you once dreamed of”. I’m not a fan of a preposition at the end of a sentence, but I have to agree.

EDIT: I now have a Soda Stream.

Nemone Sariman