Chelsea 6 Queens Park Rangers 1
From the off yesterday was filled with gloom. Having spent the previous 24 hours mostly in bed trying to recover from then dreaded flu and praying for the persistent rain to stop, it was with a great sense of gloom and misery that my Dad and I made it to Fulham Road. We tried to find a place for a coffee with the howling wind and driving rain splattering us menacingly and we struggled to both open and/or close our umbrella (you know that feeling?). All we could find were a few restaurants serving, naturally, Chelsea fans. Having decided not to join friends at Earl’s Court, everything from a QPR perspective felt incredibly desolate. We found solace quickly inside the ground where we could at least find shelter from the rain, although what then befell us over the next two hours was something, even as a QPR fan used to losing, I did not expect.
I was hoping for - at best - a spirited and passionate performance from the Rangers, reflective of the the commitment they have been showing at home games, but statistics prevailed and we added to the list of away losses - a record in this season's Premier League. Not just a loss, however, but an annihilation of pretty epic proportions.
I'm not going to dwell on the match. Not going to dwell on the rain-sodden slippery pitch, nor the team formation which played Cisse on the left where he looked extremely uncomfortable, nor the frustrated antics of Joey Barton (hardly befitting a team captain), nor the complete lack of pace or sense of urgency that left us completely exposed to a team that outplayed from start to finish. I'm also not going to dwell on the fact that all we could think to do was sing songs about how Christine Bleakley looks like a horse, and how we had to listen to the crazed antics of fans so upset and incensed with the poor performance the number of times the word f*** was used by them could fill a book describing the various ways in which you could use the word f***. I'm also not going to think too much about that irritating emcee who should lose his job for inciting away fans by responding to chants of 'who are ya'' with 'you'll soon find out'. And over 24 hours later, I'm trying not to think about some very strange things going on in twitter land where some fans are unhappy with the #qprtwitfam flag (a sort of twisted reaction and continuing bitterness linked to yesterday's result?) Is this no longer a free land where fans can show unity and support for their teams so long as they do not harm others? *Confusing*
The song that kept echoing through my head after the match, was the Everything But the Girl version of I don't want to talk about it. I felt as if QPR broken my heart again. Much like a bad boyfriend who I keep running back to even though everybody tells me he's no good for me.
And when I came in to the office this morning, still worse for wear with the remnants of the flu still apparent, people around me were extremely diplomatic in the same way that people are when you have broken up with a boyfriend. Basically, they didn't say anything at all. It was almost deafening not to be able to talk about it, the way that girls like to, that by the end of the day I turned round and said, 'thanks...for not mentioning the match yesterday guys'. To which they responded 'what match?', in the way that good friends should.
And now I sit watching the Manchester derby. Currently City are ahead by a goal. If it is the final score it will be one which most QPR fans will not be happy with because it will mean the title race is not yet wrapped up by the time we play them on the 13th May. But quite honestly, I'm a bit more philosophical about it. You can't keep wishing ill of everyone else around you when you've messed something up for yourself. And while I feel a little bit single and lonely, and yes maybe a jealous, I know that time will slowly help and my heart will soon be on the mend no matter what the future holds for our club.