Nobody is without imagination. We all have dreams, carried with us wherever we go in hope more than expectation…but with a little expectation nevertheless. And that, perhaps, explains the thoroughly half-hearted nature of yesterday’s proceedings, for nobody can have been unaware that these were wasted hours, dribbled tediously away while others went in search of fulfilled dreams. Somewhere, someone spent the afternoon of Saturday 5th March 2005 doing something that they’ll remember forever, that they’ll take to the grave as a personal, irreplaceable treasure. And it wasn’t me. And it wasn’t you either.
A founding member of the De Stijl movement, Piet Mondrian rejected the long-held idea that art should be a representation of the world. Instead, his paintings were constructions in their own right, comprised of strong black lines, precise right angles, and flat expanses of primary colour. Seeking the perfect composition from these most basic elements, Mondrian moved the blocks around the canvas until a balance was struck and the work was finished.
BSAD report: There are less than ten minutes left. Robbo’s receiving a pass and steaming down the left like an irate, stampeding wildebeest. He whacks a cross towards the penalty area, hitting a defender and winning a corner. His momentum takes him over the touchline and towards the Rookery, fists clenched and bellowing insanely to demand more support. Spurs are visibly rattled by our bruising assault, suddenly defending a draw rather than pursuing a victory.
Take a freeze-frame of that moment. Think about it. We’re supposed to have accepted relegation, to feel humbled by the Premiership experience. Yet it takes only the slightest encouragement to flip the script entirely, to bring us back to life as this roaring, snarling beast of a team.
More games from 9th December at https://oldwatford.com/tag/dec9