Regular Beesotted contributor, Nemone Sariman, looks back at Saturday’s win over Burnley at the Gtech.
I am not usually one for lucky amulets or superstitions before a game. I know that footballers have their individual turf-touching, sky-pointing rituals that they conduct with almost-worshipful fervour prior to walking onto the pitch. But, from a fan point of view, I find it hard to believe that the team will go on to lose if Mike in row 11 isn’t wearing his lucky pants or if he put on his left sock before his right, instead of the other way around, before setting off for the match.
Therefore a day that started out with me wearing Burnley colours had to end well…
Now, I can explain. Claret suits me. So, naturally, it stands to reason that my wardrobe would be filled with colours that suit me, rather than colours that don’t. I absentmindedly grabbed a claret hoodie on match day, not really giving it any thought, and only realised when I was halfway to the Gtech, by which time it was too late to go home and change.
Furthermore, beneath the offending hoodie, I was wearing one of those long-sleeved tops which has holes in the wrists, to hook your thumbs through when it’s cold. And, as I pulled the holey wrist bits from underneath the hoodie so that I could wear them, I saw that they were trimmed with light blue.
So there I was, in the home end, resplendent in claret and blue.
I was convinced that my fellow football gang would neither notice nor care. After all, if Mike in row 11 couldn’t influence the outcome of a game with his lucky pants or his sock-donning order, then surely my unfortunate and entirely accidental wearing of Burnley colours couldn’t Butterfly-Effect us into a terrible game?
However, they weren’t impressed. “What were you THINKING?” was, I believe, the universal refrain.
Erm, I wasn’t. It’s that simple.
Perhaps it was just a coincidence, then, that the majority of the game turned out to be as sticky as wading through tar. Perhaps the stress of it was the universe’s way of punishing me, or at the very least warning me to pay attention?
At half time the score was 0-0, but it felt like a struggle to maintain. If you’ve ever heard people say, “It was 0-0, but a good 0-0”, this definitely wasn’t one of those times: shots blocked (or missed), sequences of passing interrupted, players seemingly in the wrong place at the wrong time, nothing seemed to be working. I was starting to regret my Fantasy Football captaining of Igor Thiago, and had started mentally drafting an email to the organisers suggesting a new chip idea: the option to de-captain one’s captain mid-Game Week and allocate it to someone else, if things weren’t working out.
“What’s happening?” I lamented to the rest of the gang. “I thought this game would be raining goals?”
During the second half, we started to show more fight and oomph. Then, at around the 80-minute mark, the magic happened. After an almost interminable wait, a penalty from Thiago helped to restore my sky-rocketing stress levels, the mishap at Brighton being almost forgotten. You’re only as good as your last penalty, as they* say.
*Ok, I’ve never heard anyone say this. But someone somewhere has said it at some stage, right?
Regretfully, Burnley retaliated immediately in the same fashion, with a penalty scored by Flemming. For a moment it looked (from my seat, anyway, and without my glasses on) as if Kelleher might save it with his feet, in the same way that he saved that Ronaldo penalty against Portugal, but watching it again on Match of the Day showed that it wasn’t such a close call after all.
Somehow this seemed to galvanise us into action. A second Thiago goal followed, after Walker attempted a clearance but tumbled. A majestic pass from Henderson (I still pinch myself when reminded of the fact that he actually plays for Brentford) set up Ouattara for a goal that didn’t look as if it would work from that angle at all, yet he made it work.
The Ouattara goal – or the Dangoal, as they are now known – left the final score at 3-1.
My Juventus friend, by WhatsApp: “What the hell HAPPENED in the last ten minutes?” (Whilst following along at home he had gone to make a cup of tea, then returned to find that four goals had been scored in his absence.)
After all those months of wondering whether Igor Thiago were even a real person or whether the club had just made him up, it makes me immeasurably proud to see him not just breaking Brentford records by reaching ten goals in thirteen games, but now sitting just two goals behind Haaland among the Premier League top scorers. Every so often, I check the chart again. Yes, it’s real. And, yes, checking the chart feels as good the 9,853rd time as it did the first.
We weren’t Game of the Day on Sky (although, had they played just the last ten minutes, it would have been a cracker), and we were last on Match of the Day again, but hey ho.
Next up: Arsenal. I don’t think anyone will mind too much if I wear red and white this time.
Nemone Sariman
