So that was it. The McCarthy Witch Hunt, McCarthyism, call it what you will. He's gone. I missed his last game as well. Because I succumbed to the ennui, like a fool, and because I didn't fancy watching what I thought would be a 0-0 at home to Barnsley. The evening was warm, the drive home effortless. I haven't got any excuses. And we won and Mick went.
It's fun at work. The Brummies whistling through their arses, hoping another win coupled with one for us tonight would see them safe, boasting that Monk would have them play-off bound in 18/19, with his own players and a bit of spare dosh. The Villans hoping they'll still influence second place for automatic, secretly dreading the play-offs and the possibility of a two-legged semi against a resurgent Millwall. The Wolves idling round the office, the inner radar set to 'smug', the office A-Z's falling open naturally at Manchester and Liverpool and London, the stadia highlighted in neon marker. The Baggies keeping a low profile and asking me what Preston's like and whether they can park at Carrow Road. The Walsall fan is nutty and the Kidderminster season ticket 'won' for the office has disappeared, with one of the Baggie fans suspected of having had enough of his ST at The Hawthorns.
Marbella sounds sh*t. Tel's not had a good day of weather yet. This isn't a holiday by the way. They're 'acclimatising', although Tel can't spell that, so it's officially 'getting use to Spain with the wife before we go their for good'. Judging by the pics he sends, acclimatising is all about sitting around drinking in white t-shirt and black shorts while gurning at the camera in sunglasses you actually don't need to wear. They haven't found a likely villa or plot of land yet. Watch this space.
So I missed it. We won 1-0. Hope it was enjoyable. We've all suffered from the monotonous, the crap, the weak, the frustrating and the downright unfathomable this season, and now Mick's gone, and the hope starts again, muted because of the circumstances, but building somewhere in the back of the head and in the heart. And those halcyon days flicker and tease, like a much-loved film on a projector against a bare wall, and the dreams come a-wooing, and they whisper things like "Burley didn't need much dosh" and "Jim had us beating the scum regularly and he was a rookie".
See, sad as Mick's leaving us in these circumstances is, and I don't like any manager to leave us under a cloud; especially when they haven't deserved all of it, I'm glad as well. Like Red in the Shawshank Redemption, I hope. I haven't dared hope for a long time, really since we started the season on fire. I hope we get someone in who understands the club, who can heal us as well as the club, who can reunite us. It'll take time, but we're fairly patient.
So I missed Barnsley. I probably won't get another chance for acquaintance next season as they look likely to go down. I missed Mick as well. Hopefully, I won't miss him too much either.... |  |
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