This is football. Can posters please be sure to use the correct terminology:
Cross -》'Disappointed'
Incandescent with rage -》'Very disappointed'
And
Boiling piss and BP of 200/120 ->> "vocally dissapointed"
This is football. Can posters please be sure to use the correct terminology:
Cross -》'Disappointed'
Incandescent with rage -》'Very disappointed'
We played really well there's no denying that but I'm still concerned that everytime they hit us on the break they looked like scoring. They even had two disallowed goals. Even though we deserved the win I feel that if we got ahead at any time they would just bombard us until they equalise.
I'm therefore finding it too hard to get annoyed. 1 point lost.
OK. I'll bite and mention when I actually was cross at the football. It happened during Hughton's last season at a couple of home games. Pretty much the same team that had done nothing the previous game was trotted out again, and were doing exactly the same ponderous buttock-clenchingly pointless death march around the back and up the side and round the back and up the other side and round again. Then bish bosh and Bournmouth or some other member of football's Illuminati were one up.
I'd done my usual 80 mile drive to get to the match. It was a nice day. And I was sat there watching thin characterless shite. I think the earliest I walked out was at round 70 minutes, but I regularly felt I was doing time for someone else's crime as I sat there for the full 80 (the maximum I was preepared to tolerate).
Then the furious stomp to car park C, a quick check of the radio to see whether we had clawed back an unlikely consolation goal, then a grim drive home, muttering 'we are ****ing useless' and 'every bloody week, the same predictable tactics' and 'we're DOOMED!' under my dry dusty graveyard breath.
That's angry at the football. Yesterday I reminded myself again that I'm lucky to be alive to see my team perform like that, with every chance we'll be just as good next game and get a win. Angry? FFS
OK. I'll bite and mention when I actually was cross at the football. It happened during Hughton's last season at a couple of home games. Pretty much the same team that had done nothing the previous game was trotted out again, and were doing exactly the same ponderous buttock-clenchingly pointless death march around the back and up the side and round the back and up the other side and round again. Then bish bosh and Bournmouth or some other member of football's Illuminati were one up.
I'd done my usual 80 mile drive to get to the match. It was a nice day. And I was sat there watching thin characterless shite. I think the earliest I walked out was at round 70 minutes, but I regularly felt I was doing time for someone else's crime as I sat there for the full 80 (the maximum I was preepared to tolerate).
Then the furious stomp to car park C, a quick check of the radio to see whether we had clawed back an unlikely consolation goal, then a grim drive home, muttering 'we are ****ing useless' and 'every bloody week, the same predictable tactics' and 'we're DOOMED!' under my dry dusty graveyard breath.
That's angry at the football. Yesterday I reminded myself again that I'm lucky to be alive to see my team perform like that, with every chance we'll be just as good next game and get a win. Angry? FFS
I'm not cross anymore.
We are the team which conceded a goal after the full time whistle. Another claim to fame.
Football luck has borrowed a point off us, perhaps it'll pay us back soon.
OK. I'll bite and mention when I actually was cross at the football. It happened during Hughton's last season at a couple of home games. Pretty much the same team that had done nothing the previous game was trotted out again, and were doing exactly the same ponderous buttock-clenchingly pointless death march around the back and up the side and round the back and up the other side and round again. Then bish bosh and Bournmouth or some other member of football's Illuminati were one up.
I'd done my usual 80 mile drive to get to the match. It was a nice day. And I was sat there watching thin characterless shite. I think the earliest I walked out was at round 70 minutes, but I regularly felt I was doing time for someone else's crime as I sat there for the full 80 (the maximum I was preepared to tolerate).
Then the furious stomp to car park C, a quick check of the radio to see whether we had clawed back an unlikely consolation goal, then a grim drive home, muttering 'we are ****ing useless' and 'every bloody week, the same predictable tactics' and 'we're DOOMED!' under my dry dusty graveyard breath.
That's angry at the football. Yesterday I reminded myself again that I'm lucky to be alive to see my team perform like that, with every chance we'll be just as good next game and get a win. Angry? FFS
Very noble, but I'm not there yet.
I'm just ****ing angry. Still.
The last time I was this angry at a travesty was either the Burnley game when we went down to nine men (Craig Pawson) or the Bournemouth fiasco at the Amex where Simon Hooper gave that disgusting penalty to Smug Eddie and his team for an immaculate tackle by Calderon. Yet another in the history of abysmal Bournemouth penalty decisions against us.
I didn't think it was possible to despise Hooper any more after that game. Clearly, after yesterday's events, I was wrong.
Was the third Bournemouth goal on 70 mins? If so that is also the earliest I have left. I expected a clear run home, except it felt like the end of the game there were so many others heading for the train and their cars
You forgot “I am giving the next game a miss”
Yeah......and I do love a bit of vituperation
Very noble, but I'm not there yet.
I'm just ****ing angry. Still.
The last time I was this angry at a travesty was either the Burnley game when we went down to nine men (Craig Pawson) or the Bournemouth fiasco at the Amex where Simon Hooper gave that disgusting penalty to Smug Eddie and his team for an immaculate tackle by Calderon. Yet another in the history of abysmal Bournemouth penalty decisions against us.
I didn't think it was possible to despise Hooper any more after that game. Clearly, after yesterday's events, I was wrong.
Funnily enough, even when it was an evening game on the tellybox during the worst of the troughs of despond, I still schlepped over to the Amex to make manifest my suicide pact with Hope
The words are back!! Vituperation. Smashing stuff.
I didn’t realise you followed the women’s team too, kudos to you
I didn’t realise you followed the women’s team too, kudos to you
We've got Hope: United get the charity :
. We’re going to give a team a real hiding soon.