|
I remember I phoned in sick for a Sunday shift the week before to go up to Dunfermline when we were supposed to win it the week b4, then that bastard Craig Falconbridge (I'll never get that fuckers name as long as i live!) scored with 8 minutes to go and it meant an anxious final day at paradise.
Early Henke goal and we thought it would be easy, not so, 70 minutes of sheer hell (including St Johnstone missing an open goal!) before harry b stuck in the second.
Then tears and snotters at the final whistle, ten years of pain relived in my head.
Anytime we have a defeat I think back to that day to get some perspective, and remember how far we've come.
|