The FA Cup - Where were you when....
A roaring fire crackles quietly, it's susurration is the only noise that cracks the foreboding silence. The licking flames are housed within an overbearing fireplace and ornate marble mantelpiece, which is the resting place for candles on either flank, their frollicking flames casting an elaborate shadow dance upon the walls. In the centre of the thick slab of marble that sits atop the fiery embers, a brass carriage clock ticks it's ominous march, teaming up with the fires' crackling, creating music that only the tendrils of flame can dance to.
The room that is dominated by the fireplace is large and hexagonal, housing a large teak bookcase and one large bay window that currently is a portal to the tumultuous storm raging. Above the mantelpiece, reminiscent of the painting of Vigo The Carpathian, sits a large oil painting. The painting is of a distinguished gentleman with a black backdrop. He is extravagantly bearded, wearing a sharp black suit. Sitting on a high-backed, plush red chair, his expression is of mild perplexity, but also of stern consternation. A look behind you in the room will allow your eyes to see the painting could be a mirror, as the same image affronts your eyes. The hirsute gentleman sits in front of you in the flesh. I think he has a story to tell......
Good evening. It is my pleasure to talk with you this stormy eve. I am @JokmanAFC. Throughout the season I have attempted to narrate not only the goings on of our turbulent season, but of my personal musings. Most of what I've described has, in my mother tongue, been utter pish. Biased nonsense that is good only for rationalising the thoughts of the insane. I do however, have something useful to say.
The culmination of the season, unless you've been kept indoors and been subjected to sensory deprivation, was the FA Cup. I will not attempt to describe the play-by-play movements or narrate the tactics that each manager thrust upon the teams, for it is beyond me. I will though, say this.
Every team in the land has peaks and troughs, moments in the rose-tinted past that encapsulate what it is to support a team. instances that cover the whole spectrum of emotions, that only grow stronger with time and sharing. Time normally is the enemy of everything, but is only an ally of memories, rendering the triumphant and the torturous only more so. As a Gooner, we have many of these. Charlie George poleaxed upon the turf in 71, Sunderland in the 5-minute final in '79, Michael Thomas with perhaps the finest in '89. I would love to continue as the moments are not only powerful to imagine but infectious. If you start a conversation amongst colleagues/friends that include such powerful nostalgic instances, you can be sure in the knowledge that not only will some share and feed upon your emotions, but will proffer their own personal favourites. My own? The most joyous moment of being a Gooner was the Invincible season. The end of the Leicester game meant we had inscribed ourselves upon history, it would never be the same once the final whistle sung out.
