Silver(ware) Lining

Today, the mighty Spurs (TM - me?) won the League Cup for the first trophy since 1999 (also the League Cup). We beat Arsenal and Chelsea to do so. I got up after five hours' sleep and a minging hangover* and trudged to the Official Home of the New York Spurs Supporters' Club in Brooklyn Heights** with a wary heart. I was (and still am) wearing my Spurs top from when I was mascot, aged eleven.*** And we won. Somehow, we won. This may mean nothing to you, but it was fabulous.

It was a wonderful, brutish reminder of watching sport in England. We did not cover ourselves in glory - the "imaginative" insults I remember fondly when at baseball matches ("Yankees suck; You suck" - not exactly inspiring) were, essentially, variations on "you adjective c-word" (fat and fucking being the favourite adjectives"), you wanker, etc. It was pretty revolting. Yet, it was home. It smelled like it - beer everywhere, and the smokers outside were in sufficient number that their stench filled the bar. Not something I'd want to do every week, but it was joyous, briefly.

* Bought a friend a frozen margarita maker - best present ever. Seriously. Look at it - it's BEAUTIFUL.

** I think. I find Brooklyn neighbourhoods so confusing.

*** Passed the ball around with Gazza and got dubbed Gary Lineker's "lucky mascot" - by the grinning eejit himself. We won 2-1.