Overcoming Wednesday night is going to take me a while. Still not ready to talk about it. One of the Dad’s at the pool last night (my daughter was in a swim meet) got a few words out of me on the subject, he’s a staunch Villa fan, so has his own personal affliction, but this has been a harrowing few days.
Whilst this relegation was as unnecessary as the last one in 2016 at least that day thousands of Addicks could take to the pitch to express their anger. This time we were stuck at bloody home. Helpless. Hopeless. Powerless.
I’m angry. We should all be angry. How an earth did we get associated with the nobody stooge Paul Elliott and football club parasite Chris Farnell. Add in all the other blood suckers and then the old man that started this whole car crash all under the watchful eye of the English Football League.
Who sanctions Elliott and Farnell to act and speak on behalf of the club. Elliott was even at the games as Lee Bowyer’s team fought for their lives. Who is he, and why was he watching games when we could not?
The players will leave, Bow will leave, and I suspect his team, and Steve Gallen, who could be the biggest loss of all. Yet, whilst it is hard to conquer the apathy at this time, this remains our football club. Our children’s football club. And it is worth fighting for.
He has not always been everyone’s cup of tea, but Rick Everitt has come out all guns blazing these last couple of days rumbling the non-owners and attacking their intentions. Hell hath no fury like an Addick scorned. As broken as I am this week, I’m up for the fight too, and I would want Rick down there in the trenches with us, as well as very many other’s who bring a whole range of skill sets, intelligence and creativity.
What a couple of days eh. Devastated, grumpy, angry.
Somewhere in a mock Georgian end of terrace in Lancashire men in tight trousers and shiny shoes with fake Hermès wallets with just a credit card in it are shifting very uncomfortably.