As a Saints fan I reached some sort of mental metacrisis last week. I had booked a holiday in Germany last autumn which meant missing the Brighton and Orient games. It made me realise how intensely I had got my head into this season, having been to loads more matches than I have done for years and years, so felt that this was a chance to mentally distance myself. I needed to relax a bit.
So I decided not to look at the results while I was away. I travelled on the day of the Brighton match with some mates who are not into sport but spent the whole of that night's evening meal thinking about the game. That night I even dreamt that we had lost 2-0! However, by Saturday I had managed to get my 'holiday head' on and was barely thinking about Saints at all.
Come Monday and the Orient match I was slightly annoyed that the game was nudging into my psyche and not allowing me to fully enjoy the last day of my break. After the match was over i felt that we had most likely won and was quite relaxed that evening.
Coming back through Belgium and France on the train yesterday I saw a football ground in the distance and suddenly the butterflies were back, flapping wildly about in my stomach as I started to mentally count down to the fact that within a few hours I would know the results of not 1 but 2 games and would our season still be alive. The conversation in our group was bright, but I wasn't taking part, just staring out the window.
By the time we entered the Chunnel I was a bag of nerves again. In 20 minutes we would back in Blighty and I would have internet access again. As we exited the tunnel I took the plunge by looking at the League 1 table first. We had 57 points -I had predicted a draw and a win, and low and behold that's what must have happened. 8 points off the playoffs and up to 9th - not bad at all. Momentarily I was happy. Then weirdly, the next thought was a negative one - I bet we beat Brighton and then only drew with Orient.
So with some trepidation I looked at the results. But no, a last minute equaliser made me feel good about the Brighton game and of course told me indirectly that we had beaten Orient - butterflies gone in an instant. So all in all I was quite happy. My mate looked across at me and said 'Why are you sweating?' I told them what I had gone through and of course they all thought I was bonkers - much tutting and shaking of heads and cliches like 'It's only a bloody game ffs'.
There is definitely something wrong with me. I am having trouble coping with the expectancy of winning every game, something this Saints fan isn't used to - the tension far outweighs that which I experience when we were mostly losing. I guess it gives me a little insight into the feelings that the 'Big 4' fans go through season after season.
Luckily I have a strong heart!
Keep the Faith
COYS
ps. I encountered a Skate on a station on Germany on Sunday and couldn't resist asking him if they were relegated - he saw my pin badge and muttered 'not yet Scumboy, not yet'.
