I took the boy to his first Sheffield United game this afternoon. The Blades v Plymouth Argyle in the second round of the FA Cup. A potential banana skin of note.
(Just check out those blue skies, by the way.)
(And please excuse his hair, he’d just taken his beanie off.)
As local band Pulp once sang:
Do you remember the first time?
I can’t remember a worse time
And at half time, 0-0 and having endured a thoroughly depressing 45 minutes, I’m not sure I could, Jarvis, no.
But then in the second half, things perked up. They got a penalty and they missed it and then we got a penalty and we didn’t. And then we got another penalty and we didn’t miss that one either.
And with the boy thoroughly excited, we then slotted in another (not a penalty) and all was right with the world:
All’s well that ends well, and this did end well.
It’s taken a while to get him there, but I’m glad we did. Another rite of passage in my (not so) little boy’s life.