Despite His White Boots

Football, football, football and, if the mood takes me, more football.

Sunday, November 30, 2008

Crystal Palace 0 QPR 0

This was the first away game I've been to in a long time. It's been so long that the last one was also at Selhurst Park, against Wimbledon. It was nice to know in this ever-changing world that South London and in particular Selhurst Park is still a complete dump.

I ended up going because Frode and his friend Matthis (sp ?) were at a loose end and had decided to go to the game, correct score bets in hand. The guys had lumped on 3-2, 3-3 and Any Unquoted (basically more than 3-3). Their faces dropped somewhat when I informed them that Rangers had scored 2 goals in 9 away games this season. Sports betting is all about research guys :-).

There were basically two ways this game could go IMO ; Rangers could defend well and draw 0-0, or defend badly and lose 3-0. We were treated to the former. In fact, sub Heidar Helguson should have put Rangers in front with virtually his first touch, but slid the ball wide of an open goal from 25 yards after Speroni went walkabout. That was about it from Rangers, and Palace didn't come up with much better for all their huff and puff.

I still quite enjoyed it but for the sole reason that I had someone to talk to. On my own it would have been the most boring, cold and pointless waste of time in history. Or perhaps the second ... At half time one of these keepy-uppy ponces came on, set himself up in a shoulder stand (I'm sure all you yoga devotees will know what that is) and juggled a ball on the soles of his feet for long enough to "break the record" Sergei Bubka-style. Now, I'm not denigrating how difficult this must be. It must take extraordinary balance and skill. The point I'm getting at is how can someone devote that kind of talent, and the interminable hours of practice that it must require, to something so pointless ? And could this be a metaphor for the match and indeed all of football itself ? Perhaps so.


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