Sam, February 2009
The rise of social media had created a way of bringing fans of the team together, no matter where they lived in the world. In some aspects it was brilliant, a way of uniting fans and boosting the spirits of the team but fans can quickly turn on you when you're not winning. The dark side of social media had every 'armchair player' critiquing how we played the match. If I missed a shot that they considered easy, then I'd be called useless, with a thousand people happily announcing how I'd let my team down and how they should replace me.
I no longer just carried the weight of my team on my shoulders, I now had an entire fan base and their commentary to absorb. No player, from any team, walks out on to the field on game day with the intention of not giving it their all and we judge our failures harsher than any coach, team mate or fan will but that doesn't mean the criticism doesn't get to me.
Playing against Crystal Palace was guaranteed to be a win for Chelsea but they swept the floor with us, right from the first quarter. We played hard as a team yet came away defeated and the fans were outspoken in how we could have played better, as if they were on the field with us. It was a blow to my self esteem, reading through the comments of disappointment.
Normally after a loss I'd find comfort in Veronica, she'd feed me words of encouragement to prevent me from slipping into the dark place. Just seeing her smile would be enough to remind me that I'm not the loser they claim I am but tonight she's a million miles away, living it up at the Claremont High School ten year reunion.
I wish now that I'd gone with her, just to escape this feeling of hollow depression that is creeping in. I achieved nothing by staying back here and playing today. I should have been by the side of the woman I love, singing her praises to that bitch Petra, watching her face crumble when she hears that Veronica lived the life that she could only ever dream of.
Our flat feels so much emptier without her presence, the chilly winter air fills the space that she's left behind. I light the fire and settle in for a night on the couch, watching Fast and the Furious but halfway through the movie, which I've seen a thousand times before, I find I'm not even focused on the screen, instead my mind is on today's loss.
I pick up my phone, looking for a distraction but find myself lost deep in the comments section from a post about the game. "Does Lions even realise what team he's playing for' one commenter wrote and another one backed him up with "Lions needs to go back to the bench and let a real player have his spot.'. These comments were nothing new to me but that didn't make them any less irritating to read.
I scroll through the long list of backlash, everyone desperate to make it known how shit we played today but then one of the comments stood out, like a bacon of light, begging for attention. "I would have made that shot.' the comment read, with 900 likes since it was posted only 10 minutes earlier. I click on the profile of the man who is now claiming he would have made the shot that I kicked but was caught by our oppositions goalie. His profile picture alone tells me that, from the sheer size of the man, the only thing he workouts out is his mouth.
I return back to his comment and hit reply, deciding to give this wanker a chance to prove himself by inviting him to come train with me on Monday. My intention was not to embarrass the 'armchair player' by calling him out but to show him that I'm an actual, real person who he's taking aim at.
I jump out of the comments, knowing that if I keep reading them I'll just end up getting myself into trouble. I continue scrolling through my feed but stop when I come across a picture that Kate has posted of Gareth, who appears to be sporting a black eye. It's probably wrong how happy the image on my phone screen made me but I rationalised that Gareth getting punched by anyone would have been well deserved.
