At some point this afternoon I had stopped shaking. I have to admit I hated every minute of the game. Watching in a pub with sympathetic work colleagues and random strangers concerned to why this bloke staring at a TV for what seemed hours was going through a somersault of emotions and odd facial expressions, and ended in a tearful heap on a bar stool.
Had a bloody headache this morning though. Jesus what a night, what an achievement and the end, the pitch invasion, the unadulterated joy. The pride. Roland and his evil ownership not even the slightest regard.
It had been a long and nervy day, I didn’t sleep well, but we had the start that we had all hoped for. Bielik heading in a 2 minute free-kick. Game over. Oh no, nowhere near.
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