It’s been a long time since TFC blew the lead on Saturday. Four days, in fact.
You must have been some drunk, Duane, my trolls are likely saying. You’re just sober now?
I didn’t have a drop to drink Saturday. No, I haven’t given up the beer (or the gin, or the…I’ve said too much). It’s just that The Reds make me feel bad enough without having to add a hangover to my Sunday morning.
So, the double entendre that is this column’s name is lacking in accuracy this week. It’s just been lacking the last few.
Why?
[PRBREAK][/PRBREAK]
Because I’ve written every damn word I can possibly write on this bloody team.
I’ve blindly supported and I’ve chastised. I’ve called for action and I’ve called for patience.
I’ve been angry and (rarely) ecstatic. Bitter and hopeful. Funny (or, at least trying to be) and deadly serious.
And around and around and around it goes. The same damn Groundhog Day story line repeats itself game after game after game after…
What would you have me say? What would you say? I can barely bring myself to think about TFC let alone write about them.
But, I have to. I have to because someone does and, increasingly, no one is. I have to because I can’t walk away.
And, if you’re reading this, neither can you.
So here we are. What now?
Seriously, what now?