Written by prickettboy3 on Monday, 3rd Dec 2012 13:25
It was a cold, gloomy afternoon in December. The bright lights shone down onto the grass in front of me and I could see green and red neon lights.
Was this what I thought it was? I had heard others speak about such things but it was always on a Friday or Saturday night down the boozer so I put it down to those individuals being drunk or exaggerating their stories to show off in front of the lads. As I had never seen with my own two eyes what they spoke about it was always difficult for me to share in their excitement.
Was this really happening? I pointed out what I was seeing to some people around me but they said I was imagining things and that I must have had too much to drink. I was suffering with man flu and so was heavily dosed up on various medicines; perhaps that was affecting my rationale?
No! I know what I was seeing and it was so obvious, how could nobody else see it? Perhaps they too had seen one before and considered it normal. To me this was anything but normal.
The atmosphere around me seemed to change and my heart started to race. I was transfixed by the events unfolding in front of me. It was like something I’d only ever seen on TV before. In the distance was somebody shouting instructions to the army of blue men on the grass in front of me, who stopped and listened to whatever it was being shouted at them.
Then a few of the men moved into different positions; a position of attack. It was quite eerie to watch everything take place in front of me. There was almost a telepathic understanding between all of the blue men on the field and all of a sudden it seemed as though they became more confident, more determined.
I sat quietly and kept my head down as people around me shouted instructions of their own. People screamed in excitement and gasped in fear as the blue men attacked and then re-grouped to defend themselves.
Finally after what had felt like a lifetime but had in reality only been 20 minutes, everything came to an abrupt end and the people remaining on the field were left to reflect on what had happened. I hurried back to my car, still keeping my head down, the adrenalin still pumping.
I caught my breath and calmed my mind and thought it all through. There was no escaping what had just happened and it will be written in the history books for years to come. Maybe children of the next generation will ask where we were when this miraculous event took place.
I returned home and told my girlfriend all about it. She urged me to sit down and made me a cup of tea. She questioned whether I was sure about what I’d claimed to have seen. She told me she’d never seen me like this, I was still excited and breathless and as I relived the events I became more and more animated.
“Perhaps there will be something on the news,” I said to her, and quickly flicked channels to see if there were any reports about it. There was nothing. Not a single mention on any of the news channels. “Come to bed and in the morning things will seem a lot clearer,” my girlfriend said to me.
It was hard to sleep. So many memories raced through my mind. I know what I’d seen but the rest of the world didn’t seem fussed by it at all. Maybe in the future this won’t be such a rare occurrence and it will become something we expect to see, but for now it was rare and certainly the first time I had seen it………it was……..it had been…….a tactical substitution by an Ipswich manager.
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Blogs by prickettboy3
Blogs 220 bloggers
Where Are We Now? by Steve_M
Well, ultimately it is now a question of a change of manager now or at the end of the season. Mick McCarthy has dragged the cycle out to four years rather than the 18 months of his more hapless predecessors but there is clearly a need for a fresh approach at the club.
The Moore You Ignore Mick by Mullet
Day 14 in the TWTD madhouse and all is far from clear. Months of second-rate drama and second-rate football seem to end with a quiet ovation for Mick McCarthy and his men. With his captain coming out in the media to air publicly the wounds of he and his colleagues, another young player is welcomed and warned off it by Mick.
The Identity Crisis of Modern Football by wkj
Like so many others my age, my Grandad bought me up on Ipswich Town. A great club with family ties, involvement and commitment to the larger Suffolk community, and a privilege to support. In those days it seems a lot of clubs had similar connections to their fans.
A Belated Christmas Carol of Sorts by monty_radio
The Marley deal was dead, no doubt about it. Scrooge looked again as the knocker smiled in a kindly, fair-play sort of fashion, then slowly faded away. He turned the key and entered his very own gloomy arena. A large chunk of ceiling, disturbed by the mere turning of the key, struck him as he climbed the rickety stair to the upper section.
Positivity by bbg
None of the club’s successful managers over the years had massive resources available to them, but none have had to compete in leagues as inequitable as the current Championship.