By the third place play off match against France…
Or about as excited as the players will be….?!
Opportunity. It knocked. Hard. And then our Manager decided to park the London bus. For 30 minutes. Against some goal scoring maestros. Watching from afar, we called it. 1-0 up, and in the ascendancy. Press for the killer second goal surely…
Nope, our man Tuchel parked the bus. And inevitability was tangible…
Bad call. Wrong call. Sad call. Our 1966 is done and dusted, and will we ever have a better crack at it in my lifetime….??
We lived a dream for a while. And hoped that we were on the cusp of sharing a defining life experience. But that has gone, and “empty” and “hollow” and “what might have been” now rule that roost…
Heat of battle and all that. But that call to sit and suffer and let them come onto us has to be Tuchel’s definiing erroneous call. And he should not survive the consequences because none of us deserve to go through that again…
Live and die by the big calls. Tuchel called that very wrong…
Moving on. Ashes next year. Euro 2028 the year after. Obviously. And The Open today. Not sure that there are any Argentinians in the field, and perhaps the flag of St George (cool name) will be marched down that 18th Fairway on Sunday…
Sport. Love it. Hate it. We move on. No option. But the sadness of what might have been will linger for a day or three…
Epsom this evening. Where we watched England scrape past Dr Congo. Irrelevant now. Better if the Dr had held on and we did not have to deal with the muddle and agony and WTF of last night…
As we get older, the chances begin to slip by…
One life. One chance. Live it. Press that gamble button. Long time dead. Regret nothing…
Defining calls can lead to a middle ground and ambiguity and missed opportunity…
Which is silly because we only get one crack at it…
I hope. Because after tonight, Tuchel and 2028 and 2030 do not sit well..
Epsom tonight. KITARO KICH. Legend. 5 time winner in 2025. Several furlongs lower in the handicap on the turf. Roll them dice….
