I wasn't going to write about football again. Honestly. I do realize that I'm an odd duck and most of y'all think I'm a bore for rabbiting on and on about this silly game. That's because to you it is just a game, whereas for me, football is... it's like oxygen. Football lifts us up where we belong. All we need is football! (catch the quote?)
An important midweek game. United play Aston Villa (who haven't had a home win in donkey's years). Arsenal and Liverpool attempt to tear each other apart. Everton takes on the mean blue machine (John Terry) and his squad of toughies. United have had a good run of solid games and should have had today's match in the bag. In The Bag! But no, Villa scores early and convincingly. Their 'keeper, Friedel was a brick wall. Our man, Nani, was sent off soon after on a bogus red card (I call it bogus cause it was, not cause I'm biased). Villa manage to score an own goal (United have been lucky recipients of these gifts, of late) and the two sides scrambled to the final 4 of added time, in a 1-1 draw.
I'm watching the other scores of the day come trickling in. Interesting, but not deeply impactful. (is that a word? I'm too busy chewing my nails to look it up) The Chelsea game is where my future happiness or deepest despair lies. Everton is ahead by one goal. There is one minute of regular time remaining, but Chelsea seem to have it written into their television rights to have 4 minutes of stoppage time added to each game. Which means if there were any injuries or other silliness, I have seven minutes to endure before I know my fate.