Saturday, 12 November 2011


In the stands the crowd were restless and on the pitch the players were absent. Songs were repeated until the repertoire was exhausted many times over. Even the most fierce and most drunk of fans went quiet. Tattooed skinheads mumbled to their neighbours, uncomfortable about breaking the peace. Fathers put a hand on sons' shoulders to quiet their 'whys'. Unnoticed to all, the orange-coated stewards had slunk away and the huge screens above each goal showed a dos screen with a flickering cursor. The pitch glowed proud, until the floodlights dimmed and the vast bowl sat silent in the dusk.

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