I feel like I got a pretty good glimpse today of what my future will look like trying to be a United fan and raise a human being at the same time.
Let’s set some context. I’ve always been against the idea of pre-recording matches and watching after the fact. I’ve been obsessive about watching games live. Particularly during the glory years of Fergie when I couldn’t fathom the idea of not watching a match in real time.
I remember a Champions League group match against Aalborg BK away in 2008. I was in San Diego with my mates on a once in a lifetime 3 month road trip, and on our last day in the city the lads decided we should go to San Diego Zoo to visit the famous Pandas. The issue was the 8 hour time difference meant the match was to KO right bang in the middle of a sunny San Diego afternoon. So I either went to the zoo or I watched the match. I wasn’t doing both.
So off my mates went to see Bai-Yun and Xiao Liwu and I pulled up a stool at the fuckin Blarney Stone. Most people would suggest that was a terrible choice on my part, with both Panda’s now back in China, and the opportunity to see them lost forever and that’s before I mention that the car we were travelling the country in, that had all of our clothes, travellers checks (remember them?), laptops etc, was broken into in San Diego Zoo’s carpark, and the only bag that got stolen from the trunk was fuckin mine!
Anyway my long winded point is – I absolutely HATE having to pre-record matches. But today’s match was tough. Baby Conlon is getting his new crib and dresser delivered and set up in his new room on Monday morning and before that happens, every inch of his room needs a strong lick of teal, not green, paint.
So Caroline arranged for this Sunday to be the day that two of our friends come to the apartment to help us paint. But she did so without checking the fuckin fixture list! So I was left with a choice of either telling the wife the baby wasn’t getting his room painted or I setting the DVR.
So set the DVR I did. Frustratingly Europa League Coverage in the US is shown primarily online so the only live TV coverage of the match was on the Spanish Channel Univision. When searching for the game on the TV I did see however that CBS were showing the game in English at 8:30pm. So I set record for the 3pm KO on Univision but knew I could watch the English coverage at 8:30pm if we were done painting and our friends had cleared off by then.
Now that was done the next thing I needed to do was put my phone on airplane mode. The last thing I needed was my Dad whatsapping me during the game complaining about bloody Lindelof, or a ABU mate who I hadn’t heard from in months trolling me.
My other fear, which I had no control over, was my Spanish neighbors who never fail to let me know with their shouting that Barca have scored on Man City for that matter. I hope that’s because of their love of Pep and not the fact they know I’m a United fan and just want to shove it up me.
Either way I very much felt it was a possibility that they would either cheer a United goal or a Sevilla goal, which really fucked with my head.
So about half way through the game when someone said they were hungry I suggested we escape the paint fumes for an hour and go out and grab some food. Thankfully all agreed and I relaxed a little knowing the Spanish noisy neighbours could no longer ruin the result for me.
We had food, came back, spent another hour or so finishing off the paint job and much to my surprise and delight we had our friends kicked out by 7pm. But I was left with another choice. Do I watch the DVR recorded Univision coverage with the Spanish commentary or do I wait another 90mins for CBS’s English coverage? Much to my regret now I plumped for the latter, and I’ll explain why in a minute.
Before that I had one more challenge to overcome to avoid finding out the result. My phone was still cut off from the outside world but Caroline’s was very much still in operation. When her mum Irene called around 8pm my anxiety started to rise again. They spoke generally about the shape of the room and how nice it was looking and then Caroline started to explain that I was about to watch the United game that had been on earlier and right on cue my mother-in-law said “Yeah I heard all about the game”.
FUCK MY LIFE.
I jumped up and out of the chair and somersaulted into the bedroom as quick as I could, screaming like a banshee to not only drown out Irene’s possible next words but also as an expression of how much I was fucking raging that my mother-in law of all people was going to let me know United got beat.
She proceeded to tell Caroline she didn’t actually watch the match and about 5mins later Caroline came into the bedroom to get me to tell her mum about a ghostly visit we had the day before, but I quickly told her to do one. Yes my heavily pregnant wife, I told to F-off because I thought even hearing the tone of Irene’s voice would give the result away.
I’m now at 8:25pm. 5 hours and 25mins since the match kicked-off. I’m really happy that I’ve managed to escape the result for this long and also because baby Conlon’s room has been successfully painted. I’m achieving things.
I’ve got 5mins to CBS’s coverage starts but I’m wondering if I should record it and then start watching at 8:45 so that I can fast forward through the half-time show. I think fuck it, I’ve done well to last this long so I flick it over to CBS Sports about 8:27. I don’t recall what sport was on the TV at that time because what caught my attention made my fucking head explode.
Scrolling at the bottom of the TV was a list of sports results including the line ‘Sevilla Knock…’
I actually had flashbacks to “Augerooooo” 2012. That sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, where I don’t know whether to burst into tears or kick seven shades of shite out of the TV.
I’ve been hit with the double whammy here folks! Not only has the fucking result now being spoilen for me in the cruelest way but I also have to absorb in one massive punch to the face that United got beat and the season is fucking over. Just. Like. That.
At this point I really should have just turned the phone back on and checked the final score. But desperately I clung on to the hope that because I didn’t read the full scroll and only saw ‘Sevilla Knock’ that maybe, just maybe it finished with ‘knock Wolves out of Quarterfinal’.
And I’m not going to lie. After Bruno scored that penalty I honestly thought it could have been possible.
I haven’t even gotten to my assessment of the match yet. But the above experience seems more important for me to reflect on right now. I’m going to be a father. I’m going to be responsible for the health, wellbeing, and development of a Conlon who isn’t me. Being a good father has to be my constant. Not being a good United fan who watches Champions League matches against Swedish part timers rather than take my son to the Zoo.
I should be on top of the world right now. My son’s room looks fucking amazing and we haven’t even put any of his things into yet. I shouldn’t be obsessing over United’s need for a new CB, LB, RW, and Striker. I shouldn’t be predicting that Wan-Bassika will not be United’s first choice RB in 3 years.
There’ll be other matches, other semi-finals, and hopefully a trophy or two to celebrate as well. But I’ll only get one opportunity to be a Dad to my son. So the next time I have to record the match to DVR it’s because I’ve got fuckin better things to do with my time!
A United State of Mind 