The Fog of War

It is difficult to believe that the Liverpool game was only two and a half weeks ago. Comparing the despondency of then with the hope of now gives insight into why sports are so addictive. It’s not just the euphoric highs that keep you hooked, but those wild swings from high to low and back again.

I haven’t yet commented on Fulham’s escape attempt because there are others closer to the action who can and have done it better, and also because I haven’t wanted to let my enthusiasms run away from me.  So I will confine myself to saying that no matter what happens at Fratton Park, this little run should wash some of the bitterness away from the season.

The fact of the matter is when you’re winning, it looks like you’ll never stop. Same when you’re losing.  In the middle of a bad run it doesn’t look like anything will ever change. But it’s not until it’s over that you can look back on it with any sort of clarity. It’s the Fog of War. The fact is that we are “in with a chance” on the last day of the season, when there were people saying we were relegated after the West Ham game. And the fact is that there are people thinking we’re as good as safe this week. But nobody knows anything, nothing is certain, the future is unwritten and it’s not over till the fat lady sings.



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