My toxic relationship with cup football is killing me
I really, really need to get a grip on this.
Why is it that we could all see that Lewis Miley goal coming? Not that we knew who would score for Newcastle, but as soon as Sandro Tonali stepped up to take it, you knew that somehow this would end up in the back of our net.
I don’t know about you, but it was one of those where my head just hit the table of the bar I was in, before burying my head in to my jumper. Myself and Fulhamish’s podcast producer Freddie sat there in stunned silence until the full-time whistle, there was no need to say anything.
You might shout impulsively at a bad referee decision or when one of our players makes a stupid mistake, but those kind of moments are where silence prevails.
There isn’t a photo of me at this precise moment, but there is one of Fulhamish’s Dan and Elizabeth and it’s an exact replica. Their pain is just a fraction more heightened given they’d actually gone all the way to Newcastle, eight days before Christmas (their podcast from Newcastle is well worth checking out today by the way).
In the past few years, I feel like I’ve got really used to cup heartbreak. I actually wonder if meekly going out in the third round to Oldham at home was easier than this quarter- and semi-final lark.
United, Liverpool, Palace and now Newcastle - four seasons in a row where I stupidly dared to dream that we might actually get to a cup final.
What’s ramped it up a notch though, was watching Crystal Palace lift the FA Cup in May. One of the three or four ‘big’ trophy-less clubs finally breaking their duck. They’ve done the worst thing imaginable and actually given us hope. Living proof that you can actually break the glass ceiling and win something.
This prescription of hope though is playing havoc with my emotions whenever a cup game rolls around. I can deal with the highs and lows of the league, but cup games are sending me over the edge. The stress of that Wycombe away game was worse than any match I’ve been to in the Premier League this season.
I can’t even work out why it really matters that we’ve never won a major trophy. It’s not like QPR fans that are my age can dine out on the fact they won the League Cup in 1967. Are Barnsley a bigger club than Fulham because they won the FA Cup in 1912?
As I sat on the train home from the pub last night, I kept thinking about the line from The Shawshank Redemption where Red says “These are just shitty pipe dreams”. Firstly, maybe that German pilsner was stronger than I thought, but secondly why am I so invested in this idea that we actually could win a trophy?
To all intents and purposes, the Premier League is by far the more important competition. It defines everything about the success of the club as a whole. Yet I know that I would happily see us get relegated in return for one glorious day at Wembley.
I think the biggest factor I’m wrestling with, is the fact that I know that a Fulham side managed by Marco Silva could win a trophy. There are plenty of massive clubs up and down the country that would also kill to win some silverware, but the problem is, we’re actually in a position as a mid-table Premier League team where we have a tiny bit of a chance. Additionally, we know that Marco has the ability to make this team competitive against any opponent.
Who knows what’s going to happen to Silva next season or beyond, but it feels like we’re on borrowed time and the window of opportunity, where Fulham are actually in a position to muster a cup run, is one day going to fade away.
And what’s killing me, is that it feels like each season there’s always something that stops us in our tracks. This year it felt like the three Nigeria boys could have been the difference against an out-of-sorts Newcastle. Against Palace there was Adam Wharton’s elusive second yellow, against Liverpool we missed big chances to make it 2-0 in the first leg, and need I remind you what happened at Old Trafford?
I guess ultimately, that’s why winning a trophy would be so special, because the stars need to align perfectly in order for a club like Fulham to actually beat the elite and come out on top.
In the meantime, I probably need to have a personal recalibration of this toxic relationship I have with cup football. Maybe I should channel the well-versed cup line “Whatever will be, will be”.
I’m 66 and I’ve seen one cup final. Late father, the same. My grandfather was still around to watch the 75 final too. Since he started going to the Cottage in about 1914 that’s a grand total of easily more than a century of following the Whites for one losing FA Cup final. It must be love. Or madness.
I think the point made on the quick take and the pod and was evident even from the ridiculous distance from the pitch on Wednesday evening is that their bench was light years ahead of ours. AFCON is not exactly an unknown and should have been planned for, one of the two strikers being injury prone and the other being 34 should have been planned for but we didn’t. I share your frustration Sammy that we have been so near but yet so far with Marco and he will go and do it with another team. They will dick around in January and he will not sign the extension because of it and be gone in the summer; and I for one will not begrudge his leaving. Newcastle were fragile, ready for the taking and we out sung them even after they scored to go into a shock lead out of nowhere “No noise from the Saudi Boys”. But as we faded after Raul was dead on his feet we bring on Reed, Josh and Adama. They bring on Tonali, Gordon and Murphy, and Tonali schooled Josh King while Adama ambled around.