Here's an article I wrote many moons ago on a football forum I used to frequent. I've edited it slightly and thought I'd post it here for a bit of light reading. Yes, I'm bored :)
A - Anfield (venue) It's Liverpool v Man UTD, the most eagerly awaited clash of the Premier League season.
B - Banter. You wake up, jump out of bed and get on the blower to your Manchester UTD supporting mate with the intention of shouting some light hearted, yet somewhat vile obscenities, all the while biting your nails, hoping you won’t be eating humble pie for dinner.
C - Chanting. Skipping downstairs for a bit of breakfast, mumbling every LFC song that comes into your head on the way, preparing for the spine tingling atmosphere in the Kop. COME ON YOU REDS!
D - Drink. It’s 1pm and you enter through the doors of the pub, carrying with you a deluded air of supremacy, the demeanor of a king and a smile on your face that you can’t seem to hold back. The yearly event you’ve been waiting for has arrived. Get the drinks in lads!
E - Emotion. The boys in the pub are getting inebriated gradually and the footy stories start to break out from through the years, bringing a nostalgic tear to the storyteller's eye. You're hoping for another story worth depositing into the memory bank come 4:50pm.
F - Fickleness. Now it’s time for a slight dampener on the day. You’ve had a few at this stage and you see the same guy that was slating Rafa three weeks ago, now singing his praises after three wins on the bounce. “Best stay clear”, you think to yourself as you roll your eyes to high heaven.
G - Game. The whistle blows and the crowd roar, while bracing themselves for an enthralling footballing encounter. You can’t hear yourself think. Alas, this is what you’ve been waiting for.
H - Hysterics. It’s 3.30 on the button and the roof of the Manc net is burst open by a JAR (John Arne Riise) thunderbolt. The crowd goes wild. You're hoarse from shouting but it’s worth it. 1-0 to the Pool!
I - Icing on the cake. 2-0! Just before halftime, Robbie Fowler strikes to make it two. Our God has come to the fore once again on the biggest of occasions. The echo of “ROBBBIIIEE FOWWWLLLEEERRRR” is all you can hear belting around the stadium. It’s so loud, the bitters over the park wonder why their own fans are singing the name of one of their rivals while they are behind 1-0 to lowly Watford.
J - “JOHHHHNNNNN ARRNEEEE RIIISSSEEE, I WANNNA KNOOWWWWOOOOOO, OOHH OOHH OOHH, HOW YOU SCORED THAT GOAL?” .
K - Ketchup. It’s half time and you're standing there, eating your hotdog. A beaming smile on your face, absorbing the magnificent Anfield atmosphere when suddenly a big lump of flipping tomato sauce spurts out of your roll and onto your leg. It’s insignificant, we are 2-0 up against UTD, our biggest rivals!
L - lavatory. It’s that time, all the drink you’ve consumed is not going to just evaporate. You begrudgingly get out of your seat and make your way to the toilet, knowing full well you will be waiting tiresomely. You finally get to let it out. Heaven. Now, back to the game.
M - Mesmorising. There’s always one particular sequence of play during a game that stands out for you. Luis Garcia takes a forty yard pass over his right shoulder and in one foul swoop, rattles the underside of the crossbar. Butterflies in your stomach. The crowd roar, followed by a sigh of disbelief and an eerie silence.
N - Nerves. Next goal the winner, you think to yourself. Very pessimistic but they say the third goal at 2-0 is the most important, as Wayne Rooney bursts through the defence after a cut out cross field pass by Garcia (no surprise there). He accelerates clear. The defence are not going to catch him. Your heart is in your mouth. It’s there, the 'granny shagger' has scored! It’s nail biting time.
O - "Operation Anfield exercise" booms out over the tannoy. “What the heck's that all about?” you ask yourself, soon forgetting as you’re in a state of confusion and panic at the same time for a multitude of different reasons.
P - Pretty football. “KICK THE FLIPPING THING OUT” shout 42,000 people at Garcia, as he tries to play keepy uppey in his own penalty area. Your heart skips a beat. 10 minutes to go. You just want it to end.
Q - Questions. Standing there biting your nails and shouting all sorts; You’ve temporarily lost the plot. You’re in your own world - the world of football. You start to question your sanity, eyes half closed. You can hardly bare to look.
R - Result. This result means everything. Months of taking the mick out of your mates. The players on the pitch are forming a temporary superiorty complex over their biggest rivals, which even starts to make them believe that this could be their year. Only a couple of minutes to go.
S - Stoppage time. Adrenaline pumping through your body. Looking around at people fidgeting and biting their nails, whistling coming from all corners of the ground...
T - That’s it! It’s all over! The roars are deafening, the fans are overwhelmed and over the moon. Sheer ecstasy all round. You let out a scream of satisfaction as you think about the night ahead.
U - Unbelievable feeling. A chorus of "YWNA" rings around the stadium. Walking out the gates and down the road amongst all your fellow fans, on top of the world, shouting and singing away to your heart's content.
V - Vocal. The atmosphere at the final whistle plays back in your mind over and over again and you try to remember another time you've experienced it. You can’t, you’ve never experienced anything like it before!
W - Where to go? It’s celebration time, straight out on the town. DRINKS ALL ROUND!
X - X-rated. Your memory of what happens from here on in is selective but it’s probably best left that way.
Y - You'll Never Walk alone. Best day of the year. If only everyday was like that of a matchday. We can only dream.
ZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.... is the only sound as the night draws to a close.