Crazy What You Could've Had
And so the circle continues. The grand scheme of watching
Huddersfield Town reaches a the same point as every year,
everybody hoping, everybody with that same flicker of
doubt - the flicker that will escalate into an inferno by
the end of April, when tears will be shed regardless. Not
for success, not for failure, but rather the pinnacle of
the year's efforts being concluded finally. The cold wind
of inactivity that brings little rest and much trepidation.
This is to happen. Today was different.
Today was an anti-climax even by anti-climactic stakes. It
was a drab affair in which the brief moments of genius were
overshadowed by a haze of dreariness. The kind of
dreariness that were the world to be a just place to live
would result in a refund, but both parties were as relieved
as each other to finish, and so nobody will recieve a penny.
That the loudest cheers of the game came for the latest
score of a game in a different division, which affected
neither of the participants in Huddersfield today, either
directly, on indirectly, is testament to the feast that was
served. If Old Trafford's residents serve up meals fit for
a king, then today's display at the McAlpine was a meal
served to a peasant girl.
But the light at the end of the brick-lined tunnel of non-
entertainment was this. Is you can win games playing badly
you are a good side.
The pessimist would suggest the opposite, that to win a
game poorly indicates inferior opposition. Both are
correct. Both were present in Huddersfield today, and
neither one could do anything to avoid a stalemate.
We won 2-0.
WILT? Baby Lemonade - Syd Barrett.