Like all evil things, there's a scrap of goodness about Sky tv. And that scrap is its 24 hour free sports news channel. It has become a bit of a family ritual for my son and me to sit watching the scores coming through on a Saturday afternoon.
Being a basically sensible lad he is a keen supporter of his home town team Sunderland. When Sunderland went one-nil up against Derby on Saturday we whooped and cheered together because we knew this one was an important game. If we won we'd be snapping at the heals of our opponents at the top of the table, whereas defeat would see us slump to about 8th place and the great run we've been on lately would be at an end.
However, we chewed our nails together as Derby came back into the game and were utterly dejected when the equaliser came late in the second half. Now, I'm not in the least bit superstitious but I have a little routine that I do every time Sunderland play - I make a cup of coffee in my Roy Keane mug. Honestly, it's just a joke really but I'd never forgive myself if I had tea, or used the wrong mug and we lost.
My ma-in-law (76), on the other hand is very superstitious. In fact I think she's from gypsy stock though she denies it. She has a red and white football shaped mug which she rubs in the expectation that a superior being is watching the pot carefully and when it's rubbed goes immediately to where Sunderland are playing and empowers their players to do better.
She's a canny old stick really, she lives on her own, and she's a more avid Sunderland fan that most. If they're playing round these parts she usually goes to watch. So, with just about 2 minutes to go on Saturday, I rang her to make sure she'd rubbed her pot. In fact I got the impression she'd rubbed the glaze of it, bless her.
All the final results were coming in and we were just about resigned to settling for a draw when suddenly the Sky presenter launched into his typical 'there's been a goal at Sunderland..' speech. Geoff Stelling is a likeable bloke, he's a keen Hartlepool supporter - a fact that he singularly fails to disguise every time his favourites score - and presents the show with a mixture of humour, excitement and passion. For what seemed like a minute, but was in fact about 5 seconds, we were kept dangling on the fact that a winner had been scored in the 93rd minute; but a winner for who........?
My son and I stood like Johnny Wilkinson statues (yes, stood, we'd both leapt from our seats during the first second of the five). Our basic life support systems, like blood pumping, were suspended while adrenalin production was increased to full capacity. We knew that the next thing we see would either send us into extasy or spoil our weekend completely. Four more seconds passed as Geoff built up the tension and then there it was: Sunderland 2 Derby 1.
Psycologists call it imprinting. I know that the sight of those two words and two numbers will stay with me forever.
Despite having not breathed for 5 seconds we screamed and jumped with gay abandon. The reporter described the goal and told the world who had scored it but we never heard. After a further 10 seconds passed the phone rang. It was my brother in Sunderland. I can't remember what we said except that I'm sure 'WOO-HOO!!' was part of it. I had to cut him off after a further 10-15 seconds as I had to ring ma-in-law. That conversation involved more 'get-in!s' and we asked each other which player had scored but neither of us knew.
I left her with her faith in the power of the footbal-teapot reinvigorated.
