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Post by Danstoke82 on Apr 7, 2008 10:41:14 GMT
A message from a Stokie.....
Dear Tone/Rest of the squad.
This is a message to all of you to help me make my saturdays seem so much sweeter over the next few weeks.
Every Saturday, I seem to enter what my missus calls "a trance", nothing seems to matter to me, I cannot concentrate on anything, not even the regular frivolities of my usual trip to Sainsbury's, Marks and Spencers and the Garden Nursery about 5 and a half miles up some remote country lane. Last year, I could deal with this, now, I cannot even push the trolley without becoming completely transfixed somewhat.
This happens usually on a Monday morning and never seems to fade, come 2.30pm on a Saturday afternoon and I'm completely lost in a serious state of mind. Reason being I hear you ask...well it couldn't be more simpler. I shall explain.
Once 3pm comes, I am a complete write-off, my missus leaves me in the lounge, she won't get any sense from me unless Fuller, Tony or the Britannia are part of the conversation, she has had enough, "Your a wreck!" she shouts and you know what, she's absolutely right. I am, who am I kidding? I am a complete waste!. Being a southern Stokie, I cannot afford the trips up to the Britannia Stadium on a regular basis, it's a pain in the arse, as matchday at the Brit is fantastic and so are the Meat and Tattie pies, however, the bills tend to stop that, but I make as many games, home and away as I can. So my bible for quite a few of these occasions is the West Brazil, Man Ure "Lets have a tommy tug over Cris Ronaldo" Soccer Saturday.
Now whilst the anchor, the over eccentric, Hartlepool supporting statistician Jeff Stelling is somewhat bearable, the moronic panel Mr Stelling shares on some occasions, the 110% cockney wide-boy Paul Walsh, the "Let's have another meat and tattie pie" Matt Le Tissier, the "Scouse Eagle a.k.a Hornblower" Phil Thompson or the Championship hating, bear guzzling, idiot that is Paul Merson are quite irritating. Thats not to mention the "West Ham 110% geezer but I love Brum too!" Tony Gale, who hates us, or the John "If it isn't Reading then I'm not bothered" Salako are sometimes just to much to bear. They have this knack of keeping me on edge for over 90 minutes.
"Let's go to the Britannia Stadium, where Championship leaders Stoke City are playing" shouts an excited Stelling.
My heart skips a beat, I just cannot take it. My missus quickly exits the room as she can see the mug of tea she has just poured me in my red "Stoke City" mug being hurled at the tv.
"Oh shit, Cottee!" I scream. An analysis by the pointless Tony Cottee, displaying his West Ham shirt infront of a singing Boothen. No goals, but Stoke have had 6 cleared off the line by a defender who hasn't played all season and three world class saves from a goalkeeper who let in five goals last week. "Why are the opposition playing this well today?" I ask myself, "Are they hell bent on getting one result this season, all be it from the Brit?".
"Your clutching at straws" shouts my missus, still hiding behind the door. "You make out that the whole world is against Stoke" she remarks. "IT IS!!" I yell back.
"Don't take that tone with me!, its just a football match" she replies.
"Just a football match??, is she fucking for real?" I think to myself. "This is quite possibly the most critical few games I can ever remember in my life" I reply.
"You take it too seriously" she replies, rolling her eyes as she slams the door in her annual Saturday afternoon rant, after I point blank refuse to leave the television set.
She just doesn't understand me Mr Pulis. I mean, what must your wife be like?, does she think it's just a football match?.
Results keep coming in, all the teams around us are winning. They shouldn't be, but they damn well are. Stoke is still 0-0 and another report from Cottee, this time, Ricardo Fuller has been hacked to the ground by their veteran 38 year old defender in the penalty area, the same one who has cleared 6 off the line, a stonewall penalty, shouts Stelling, but the referee has seen nothing wrong and booked Fuller for diving as well as booking Liam Lawrence for helping Fuller up.
"A don't agree with players trying to con the ref" said a fuming Cottee, of course, he would know all about that, little shit.
The tea is drunk, onto something stiffer as half time approaches. Another update from the Britannia Stadium. The opposition are starting to get the ball and look like they want to score. Mama has just blasted over from 5 yards, I cannot take it.
With half time now arriving, I look at other results, it's simply not going our way. All the others are winning, bar West Brazil, who are being bullied out of 3 points as we speak, but there's still time for the best ever footballing side ever to grace the Championship.
Me missus re-enters the room and gives me the look as if to say "one more word out of you and I'll rip ya nuts off". I get the hint and just keep schtum.
"Stoke winning yet?' she asks.
I have a moment, did she just ask me a question about Stoke??. She fucking hates football, perhaps I can convert her.
"Still 0-0 love" i reply. "But we look like we are gonna score"
"Riveting game then huh?" she answers.
I don't know whether she is being sarcastic or not, she probably is, she doesn't understand what I'm going through.
"If they lose then they lose hun, it's not the end of the world" she remarks.
If they lose? If they lose??? it would be a damn travesty!!, we cannot afford to lose.
Second half arrives. After being back at the Maracana Hawthorns for the ninth time, apparently, this time Kevin Phillipszinho has sneezed so we needed an update, we get a check from the Brit, when........ Disaster!.
"Now, there's been a goal at the Britannia Stadium. Stoke need the points to maintain their automatic promotion push, whilst their opponents aren't really playing for anything, they are mid-table and haven't been doing anything all season....BUT NOT TODAY!!.
Stoke are fucking one-nil down and Cottee has a smile like a cheshire cat. The guy who got the goal, is the guy who was called in at the last minute to make the numbers up, hasn't scored for his club in five years and is a right-back, cunningly set up by the bloke just brought in on loan, who hasn't kicked a ball all season and shouldn't be playing.
I have no cup to throw, so I shout obscenities at the top of my voice instead, it helps curb my frustrations, my missus can sense the red mist and leaves the room.
Back to the Maracana Hawthorns, Bednarinho has scored again. it's 8-6. A pure footballing masterclass by West Brazil. Dida Kiely has let in 6 mind, but we wont mention that. Another check on Scunthorpe v Colchester, it's 0-0, with no shots on goal, another jizzfest at Old Trafford after Ronaldo scores off his ear. "What a goal!!" shouts Cockney Boy Walsh. Nothing from the Brit. I'm fucking nervous. I hope the heads haven't dropped.
A trip to Watford. John Eustace is playing a blinder, it's 0-0. Molineux, Karl Henry is playing world class for Wolves, he has just notched a hat-trick. He was fucking useless for us I curse in my head, couldn't hit a barn door with a shotgun. Stelling calls for another check at the Brit. I bolt upright.
"Any chance of a fightback from Stoke?" he cries.
Smug Cottee gloats. "Not really Jeff, I cannot understand how Stoke have got to where they are. They are being outplayed. The opponents have had one shot, but their 38 year old defender, called in at the last minute, is having the game of his life. He's made a goal scoring tackle on Cresswell and at the same time pulled down Fuller again, whilst also juggling the ball on his head.
"Stoke have had chances Jeff, but the opposition who shipped five goals last week are strong in defence, they are keeping Stoke out" shouts Cottee as if he is about to throw a party.
I've almost given up hope, surely a home banker at the Brit in front of 20,000 plus and we are struggling to even score. it's 9-7 at the Maracana. Phillipszinho has tripped over the ball and it's rolled in the net. "Pure genius" states Alan McInally.
The Soccer Saturday panel other than Stelling stands up and applauds West Brazil. Sit the fuck down I shout. Le Tissier breaks away to whip his cacks down after Southampton score a goal, surprisingly, it's Stern John who has scored.
"West Brazil are clearly to good for the Championship, although not quite West 'Am guv'nor" remarks Tony Gale, who is watching the Swansea v Wrexham match. Giving a pointless update. it's 1-0 there in Sheep Land, the goal scored off the beak of Cyril the Swan.
"TO THE MARACANA HAWTHORNS!! A PENALTY!!" cries Stelling, as veins bulge in his head. We join that prat McInally. WBA have had a penalty awarded against them! you can hear the cries from the studio. "A disgusting decision!" cries McInally. "QPR's Agyemang was through on goal, but complete bravery from Paul Robinson who flew in and kung-fu kicked him in the head, whilst Kiely held his feet, stopping the ball going in the open net after Kiely had tripped over Mowbray's chin, I cannot believe this has been given, you have to watch the replays!". Robinson gets off with a pat on the bum.
Still nothing from the Brit, I look at the clock, time seems to be flying past. We go to Pompey and watch that other prat Kamara, try and crack a joke.
"A GOAL AT THE BRITANNIA STADIUM!" yells Stelling. "NOW STOKE NEED THE POINTS TODAY AS ALL THEIR RIVALS ARE PICKING UP POINTS, ON RECENT FORM..."
Stelling goes into a stats mood. "JUST GO TO THE FUCKING BRIT!!" I shout at the screen.
"Have they got themselves back in......Tony Cottee!!" screams Stelling after a 5 minute lecture on goals scored at the Brit and the last ever goal to be scored in the 31st minute.
Stoke 1-1!!
I almost fall off my chair..."GET IN!! FUCKING GET IN!!" I yell.
The missus shouts, "Are you swearing at me?!" she replies.
"Stoke have scored love!!!", whats the point, she isn't interested.
"Well done hun" she answers, going back to "Forever Summer with Nigella" on the upstairs television.
Its the 82nd minute and Liam has set up Leon to nod it in.
"I don't think it crossed the line" protests Cottee. "It's a gift, undeservedly so!" he cries. Forgetting the fact that we had 28 and a half shots in the first ten minutes of the game, the half being Mama scuffing wide. Cottee hasn't much to say, with a downtrodden look on his face.
It's a difficult afternoon, but it has been for months, Stoke have done all the hard work and got themselves into a fantastic position, but these last few weeks have been nothing short of a nightmare, starting with the inspired comeback of Southampton at the Brit, after which they hadn't scored more than 3 goals away in a match all season, "The Stern John show" remarked the moron Gale. That was a difficult night and so was this afternoon's match.
Surprisingly there's another chance at The Brit. The opponents have had their first shot of the second half, their right back again, who hasn't had more than two shots in 5 years has had another go. He looks dangerous and has just had one cleared off the line by Ryan Shawcross, thank fuck for Shawcross I chant.
"He used to play for Man Utd" states Cottee.
Clever fuck isn't he I mutter in my head.
Back to Stelling, the final scores are filtering in. Our rivals have all picked up points, still waiting on the result from the Maracana Hawthorns, where they are still playing injury time. Last I heard, Stoke's opponents, especially their right-back was having a real go at us, it's like the guy is on drugs.
"NEWS FROM THE HAWTHORNS! ALAN McINALLY!", the panel stands up....
"They have been playing 12 minutes injury time Jeff. Well deserved and it has resulted in a goal for West Brazil!, Ishmael Millerdinho after he hacked down QPR's goalkeeper and punched the ball in the net. 11-10!"
Crikey, it's more like a rugby score I say to myself.
Jeff Stelling sits still, smirking at the cameras....
"HOLD THE PHONE QPR FANS! THERE IS ANOTHER GOAL AT BRAZIL!" he yells once more, rather excitedly.
"It's 12-10, two goals, thank god Jeff, I can sleep easy tonight, in the fourteenth minute of injury time, this time James Da Silva Van Morrison the scorer. Tony Mowbray bamboozled the ref with his ugliness. As Bednar tripped Mancienne on purpose, holding him down as Morrison feigned an injury, the goalkeeper came, but Morrision toe poked it past him, well deserved and I challenge anyone to beat this team."
Back to the panel, Le Tissier is too busy having a threesome with a Saints Shirt and Chip Butty. Walsh is playing poker with the Krays. Paul Merson has nipped out for a drink and Thompson is kissing his Steven Gerrard bobble head toy.
"Must be full time surely at the Britannia, Tony Cottee surely?" asks Stelling.
"Just about Jeff, one minor bit of news, Stoke have just had a goal ruled out and quite rightly so, a cross from Liam Lawrence, brought down and controlled by Fuller with the Jamaican smashing the ball into the net, but the referee had judged that the ball had not crossed the line and gave a foul to the opposition. Oh and thats it Jeff, full time! whistle blown, 1-1."
A draw, robbed, but not beaten. We needed a win as all the others did, but as results have it we are still in the top two. Destiny in our own hands, I don't know if I can take this much more, but Im gonna try.
So please Mr Tone and the squad. I and a majority of Stokies could really do without this nervy, heart stopping end to a so unbelievable season, please can we start bringing in the 3 points and not make this an end of season day type thing, which the media crave.
Well done so far chaps, hopefully we can keep it up and I or any other bum twitching Stokie will not be needing a heart by-pass by May 4th.
GOARNNNNNNNNNNN STOKE!!!
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