the coca cola league of extraordinary gentlemen

When I was small I used to live over There. When I lived over There I used to support There FC. I used to go along each week with my Dad and we'd shout for There, through good and bad. Mostly Bad.

When I grew up I came to live over Here. Despite living over Here, I've still supported There FC. Even though I don't get to see them as often (my Dad goes alone), it's their (There) results I look for first in the classifieds on a Saturday afternoon. But, you know. I have three children. They want to go to the football and they were all born Here. So I can't force them to support There. So they support Here. I take them to the match sometimes and, I suspend disbelief and cheer for Here along with the home crowd. That's OK. I don't feel bad. I live Here after all. I can keep a sneaky eye on There's score on the scoreboard too.

But what happens when Here plays There like they did last weekend? I took Alley and my Dad. I couldn't make my Dad sit with Here fans so we sat There with the away fans. Much to Alley's dismay. She hadn't been able to where her Here shirt.

When Here scored after a minute it felt strange. There were no more goals. It was a lousy match, the only other highlights being a sending off and a saved penalty. The result for me though, is that, frankly, I feel neither Here nor There anymore.

Perhaps I should support Manchester United like everybody else. (Obviously, a joke).