It is with breathless excitement that I bring you news of great progress in the quest for top spot in the office Fantasy Football league. Just three weeks ago I was swinging like a pendulum between 2nd and 3rd and was an alarming 70 points behind the leader. I thought the race for the title was pretty much over (a bit like Chelsea), but with fighting spirit, a few strong results and a bit of lady luck on my side (also like Chelsea) I'm back in the hunt and have clawed it back to just one point behind the leader. Anything can happen now.
There are three game weeks to go and the thought of the final deciding week is already giving me heart palpitations. My Football Mentor (FM), recently sacked for lack of commitment and later re-hired in a rare moment of compassion, thinks I'm in an ideal position. "There's less time for people to catch you" he says. I'm not so sure. I don't think it's enough time to build a decent lead and hence my point above, it's going to come down to the final week. Thump thump goes my heart. I'm going to have to close my eyes.
So what's the strategy? Attack and take risks like I've been doing or defend the position? The former of course, although I don't like it one bit. I'm fairly risk adverse, but you never get anywhere by playing it safe. "Part of me wants you to come second" goaded my FM, "Just so you'll enter again next season." A cruel thing to say but he knows me too well. I don't like losing. Especially when I'm this close to winning.
So what's all this got to do with Eric Cantona? Nothing really, except that we (i.e. my husband) spotted him while on walkabout in Seville. We had to go past twice, as I didn't see him the first time, and even when I saw him the second time I didn't recognise him. He is well before my footballing time but I appreciated the famousness (as did my husband who told me that he used to play for Liverpool) and he looked nice enough in a blue shirt.
He was obviously in no hurry to watch the first leg of the Champions League semi-final between Real Madrid and Barca which surprised me. I watched the second half, purely for the cards / dives / Mourinho facial expressions and arm movement pleasure. I was not disappointed, and to add to all the controversy there was a highlight: the Spanish commentators' goal celebration "Goooooooooooooooaaaaal". And that is the short version. I didn't think that it actually happened. They must practice earnestly as it lasts a really, really long time. I'd like to hear one of our English commentators do one, just for a laugh.
I digress. The ridiculous game (was-it-over-the-line?) and ridiculous season hurtles on. A little look ahead at the fixtures tells me that all the games in the final weekend get played on Sunday 22 May at 4pm. This must be normal (is it?) but seems exceptionally harsh on the fans (and fantasy managers alike). As if the rest of the season hasn't been nail biting enough, let's throw in all ten games at once for a bit of added excitement. This season in particular, it could be that the 90 minutes on that Sunday afternoon will decide whether your team stays in the Premier League. Prepare yourself for images of desolate shirtless men; sobbing small children; players sprawled across the pitch with heads in hands; and further abuse of water bottles.
If A bit of skirt was a horse, I wouldn't be favourite to win (it's my first race after all), but I'll make the distance and am definitely in with a chance. If I had to place a bet I'd go each way and keep my fingers firmly crossed. Wish me luck!
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