Tugboat":2ntlrntq said:
I read Dan Ellard’s words and it struck such a chord that I had to try and express my own feelings at this time.
I blame my father. He introduced me to Argyle and I have been mainlining ever since. As a drug it is a particularly cruel and insidious one. I have no experience of pumping substances into my body to achieve a high so I only have the lame comparison of being a devoted follower of a run-of-the-mill football team. The highs (for me) are incredible and when Argyle have won or played so well to make me proud it has such an amazing effect on my whole being. Mundane day-to-day annoyances aren’t quite as bad (because Argyle are doing well), my mood is far more buoyant (because Argyle are doing well) and life in general is so much rosier (because Argyle are doing well). Sadly, the reverse is most definitely true. On days like this (and every other painful loss or dire performance) the sense of anger, frustration, misery and sheer bloody despair is almost more than I can bear.
The perceived ‘pain' is almost visceral and, from what Dan has said, I am sure that I am far from the only Argyle fan who feels this. My complete weekend (or Wednesday and Thursday, in the event of mid-week fixtures) is tainted and every enjoyable moment is in danger of being undermined if I suddenly recall the disappointment of another loss in that moment. That crushing disappointment is the last thing that crosses my mind before I drift off to sleep and is the very first negative thought when I awaken the following morning.
Any sensible person would have removed this source of repeated misery from their lives but - just as the addicted gambler - I persuade myself that ‘it will be better next time’ and I start looking forward to the next match with a hope that is rarely justified. The gambler will look at the odds of achieving success for the Argyle fan and will gauge them at 8 to 1 (out of the 24 teams in League One only three will be promoted). How many of us would stake nearly nine months of emotional anguish on a happy ending at odds of 8 to 1? And yet I do it time after time after time.
My father felt that he had the answer. When he got to the age that I am now (mid-sixties) he just stopped going out to Home Park and took very little more than a passing interest in how his previously adored team fared. This didn’t seem to have any negative effect on his well being and he died a relatively contented man. Sadly, I do not feel that I have the strength to do what he did - even after results like bloody Gillingham away - so I will trudge on, vainly following the dim light of hope that takes me to the next match. Thanks, Dad...
