One Way Love

Sport-wise, I've had a cracking 8 months.  Last October, St George, broke a 31-year drought by winning their first NRL Grand Final after five failed attempts during that period.  Then, in the early hours of Sunday morning last, I watched Manchester City break an even longer dry spell by winning the FA Cup.  It was their first trophy of any description since 1976 and their first FA Cup win in 42 years.  This is all great.  England even hold the Ashes.  By any standards, it's a rare alignment of the sporting planets in my life.

I appreciate that there are far longer suffering fans than me but nonetheless, the realisation that I was 14 when Saints won their previous Grand Final and only 11 when City won the League Cup in '76 quietly stuns me.  To think that the last time I felt this good about sport, I was only just at high-school.  When I try to picture myself back then, I do know that it would have not occurred to me to think, "Hold on to this; it's going to be a long time hereafter".  Whole decades of my life have past in which my sporting teams have not repaid my emotional commitment to them.  It's surely been a very one-way relationship.    

So, as joyous a week and an 8 months as it's been, it really does beg the question, "Why do we put ourselves through this?"  I'd be lying if I said had a clue, so I guess I'll just carry on celebrating!