I am not religious.
But sometimes, I think there is a higher power.
The Champions League.
On Wednesday 17th April 2019, Manchester City hosted Tottenham Hotspur in the Champions League Quarter Final.
An 8pm kick off I think.
I am working late at work.
And I decide to leave the first half then buzz home on the bus to catch the second half.
So, a couple of minutes into the game I turn the radio off so I can concentrate.
20 Minutes Later.
20 minutes later, I turn the radio back on again.
After some uninterrupted, concentrated writing.
And the agitated commentator on Radio 5 Live blurts out the score.
To Manchester City.
After 21 minutes.
So, I decide to leave the radio on to hear more goals go battering in.
It gets to half time and it’s still 3:2.
No more goals.
I pause at half time.
I think about going to the pub to catch the second half but, instead, I convince myself that all the goals that are going to be scored in this match have already been scored.
So I potter around the office a bit more and, ten minutes into the second half I leave.
I’m feeling smug because it’s still 3:2.
I was right.
I sat on the bus for the usual 20 minutes or so and arrive home.
And put the radio on.
I’ve heard none of them.
The commentator is still squeaking.
And I am wondering about this higher force.
The same bastard higher force that makes queues that you are stood in move more slowly than ones you’re not.
The same bastard higher forces that make the buttered side of your toast fall downwards.
It gets to full time 5 minutes of added time are called.
And it’s still 4:3.
And I’ve still not heard one goal.
So I turn the radio off to check if if the match is on TV later.
This checking takes about 5 minutes.
Until I turn the radio back on to catch the end of the added on time.
Which I miss.
Which contained another goal.
The 8th goal of the night.
To send Manchester City through.
Before being chalked off to send the tie spinning back again to Tottenham going through.
And I missed it.