Fulham Fans Can't Take Much More Of This Uncertainty
I’m not quite sure I can take much more of this. The only safe thing to say is that I currently possess the blood pressure of Rik Waller. Whilst I do my hourly Premier League Predictor entries, I find myself losing brain cells.
What can be guaranteed is that I probably won’t last the season. My brain has literally given up on imagining what is to be and what could be, and has just fully shutdown into safe mode. At this point, I find myself just going along with it, holding little expectation, and seeing how that pans out. It won’t work. I can guarantee you that.
It’s been a while since we’ve been fighting for, well, anything really. Mediocrity has been awash on the banks of the Thames, following our Europa League adventures, and weirdly enough, I’ve strangely enjoyed our struggles.
Now let’s not get this confused with the desire to languish in the lower leagues, but it’s nice to have something to play for in the second half of the season. It’ll probably be the death of me, but some just like to live life on the edge.
Focusing on the defeat at Tottenham, I can’t say I expected a repeat of last year’s exploits. As much as we were in form, White Hart Lane is usually quite a tough ground for us. A horrific 5-1 defeat on Boxing Day back in 2007 springs to mind.
On the whole, I thought we were good value for a point going into the break. We had our fair share of chances, and tested Lloris’ world-class ability. We showed good character by replying almost instantaneously to the home side’s opener, and it was clear to see why we have managed to give ourselves a fighting chance of staying up.
However, with Diarra, Richardson and Holtby all missing, we were lacking in midfield. Their collective absence shone through in the second half, with Spurs taking the initiative. Having said that, the pivotal moment was Steve Sidwell’s penalty miss. Following the save by Lloris, the life was sucked out of the boys and it was virtually game over.
There are positives to take from North London, despite the result. We seemed to hold up well, despite notable exclusions, and it has still maintained my hope that we can stay in this division. With our run-in, anything is possible.
A certain conclusion I draw from the game is that I really don’t like Tim Sherwood. He resembles a man who has received a new heart by an organ donor, and starts spouting on about how it is his right to have it. He seems too comfortable as manager at Tottenham for my liking, and he oozes vulgar arrogance. Some might find this barmy, but I accumulate pleasure from developing certain pet hates. Sherwood is definitely one of them.
Now I’ve got that out of the way. Results didn’t exactly fall in our favour over the weekend. I found myself in a situation where I was furious at a Chelsea loss. This relegation malarkey is really ruining my conscious, and I feel as if I have to sell my soul to earn my survival. But as I converted to the dark side for 90 minutes, I was to be punished for my actions, as Sunderland stole three points from the Bridge.
This has made me ever so nervous about our encounter against Hull this weekend. For now, I feel as if we are up against Barcelona, and I’m currently playing through everything that can go wrong, in my head. That’s just the pessimist in me, I guess. Every game has an obscene amount of importance, and the final three are genuinely all cup finals (pardon the horrifically clichéd term).
A close eye will be kept on events at the Stadium of Light, with Sunderland and Cardiff battling it out. As much as you shouldn’t focus too much on other results, with the battle royale that is currently in full swing, you have to. This weekend could make it a lot clearer for all involved, then again it probably won’t. What do I know? What I do know is that Fulham are toying with me like the pretty girl inside the club. Let’s hope all the tireless work and effort pays off. Till next week.
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