Liverpool, for the first time in 30 years, have won the title. Not will win, have won.
I'm trying to pretend I've accepted it, yet the truth is it's eating away at my insides like acid. And yes I know there is no rationality for this. Call it whatever you will - paranoid, pathetic, idiotic, childish ...
All I can say is guilty, guilty, guilty and guilty!
If you understand what I mean then it may make some semblance of sense. If you don't understand, then no explanation offered will ever help you connect these demented dots. Because as much as I know it feels like pure unadulterated hate for them, it's a feeling as equally embedded in love for my team.
For my decidedly average team, for my try-hard lame-as Europa-League playing excuse for a Champions League team, once were champions whenever that was team. You see the resentment is fuelled as much by jealousy as irrationality, originating from a feeling of loss and lost pride. The knowing that what Liverpool have and are about to get they will own and dominate for what'll probably be years yet.
Yes, I am bitter and twisted, yes I am warped and demented.
Just get it over and done with. The inevitability of the wait only accentuates the hate.
So nothing's changed this end. Hated them when they used to win it every year, hated them the last 30 years when they were mostly shite, hate 'em even more now.
And that is why watching sport is so much fun. Hating their team as much as you love yours, the only satisfaction when it's them who's won.
