Earlier this week my football team, t’Owls, played t’Gooners in a Cup match.
Not so much played them, but surpsingly thrashed them, 3-0.
I’ll stop short of saying intimidated them in deference to the giant of a manager at the Arsenal, Arsene Wenger, who graciously accepted the result.
Rivalry between the two clubs during my life has been big.
Usually t’Owls end up second best in this battle.
Memorably in 1979 the two teams played four replays before the mighty Arsenal overcame third division Sheffield Wednesday in the third round.
My boss at the time was Colin Doyle, a Gooner diehard, and I remember we together travelled to Leicester from London several times to see what is rated as the daddy of all ties. I even joined the Arsenal supporters club in order to get tickets.
I’m loathe to say that he who laughs last laughs best, because mouthing such finality is all too often a precursor to being bitten in the backside.