By Mental Strength
February 13 2007

How many days ago was it when like me you were waking up the morning before that fateful day last season? When the dodgy lasagna which later became a bug came along to scupper our primary ambition of beating that other North London team for the over-hyped Champions League place? Forget Jol and the players for a minute or two whilst you read this. They appear a little later.

How many days ago was it when like me you were waking up the morning before that fateful day last season? When the dodgy lasagna which later became a bug came along to scupper our primary ambition of beating that other North London team for the over-hyped Champions League place? It could only happen to us. It happened again this season when our primary weapon fell ill just before the Arsenal Carling Cup semi-final. I tell you now you couldn’t script it.

Funny, but to me the West Ham match seems like years ago already. But maybe that says so much about us as a club. Why we have fallen so far off our pedestal I don't know but it hurts. I expected this season to be fantastic. I thought I would be able to continue with my swagger because of our resurgence. I thought I would be able to hold court and look all my counterparts in the eyes and say now is our time. I did not think I would have to take a different route to get to the photocopier or shy away from discussion (hard to believe) about us in the canteen. At times I have simply been too embarrassed to talk.

So in response to my expectation I should have known better than to dare to dream. Dare to dream when you just knew this club which has embedded itself into the fabric of my family. Affected my Saturdays, Sundays, Thursdays and Wednesdays would fail to payback the exclusivity of my support and loyalty and misplaced energy. I tell you the energy I release when we play would light many a dark room!

Jol and the players will come and go. They will leave a mark. Some will contribute more than others but they will not feel for the club like I do, whatever they say. My devotion is an irrational cocktail full of illogic and emotion. A mixture of frustration and disbelief. An irritation and disappointment that cannot be lifted by a mere Cup victory.

In the old movies I used to watch you would see someone running and then fall into the quicksand. It was somewhat surreal but it is analogous to this club. We start to run and inevitably seem to find the quicksand. Someone will no doubt pull us out but then we have to start running again.

How many times will this club expect me to start running again