As an Aberdeen fan, and a Christian, I watched last night's game between Aberdeen and Falkirk with mixed feelings. In old fashioned Biblical terms, Aberdeen get into the top six of the Scottish Premier league as those who enter by the skin of their teeth. Falkirk played us off the pitch for big chunks of the game, including the first 15 minutes till we scored with our first attempt on goal. Then after conceding early in the second half, we grabbed a late winner, from an acute angle, with the ball a few millimetres still in play (if you're an Aberdeen fan) or at least three inches out of play (if you support Falkirk [nickname, The Bairns]).
What was funny, silly and, for fans who pay good money, frustrating but still funny, was the way each team tried to waste time once the score suited them. There's something of the Primary 1 class level of non-grown-up behaviour in the playground, about professional players walking slowly, bending slowly, fumbling with the ball before lifting it, cleaning it on the shirt, then dropping it for the team mate to throw it, but not before he also slowly retrieves it, cleans it (cos it's dirty again cos it was dropped, ye see), then feigning to throw half a dozen times before the ball comes back into play, yawn, zzzzz.
While desiderating on the fitba theme, congratulations to Ross County who won promotion from Division Two, on Saturday. Derek and the boys done good. A ten match winning run after Christmas, a blizzard of goals home and away, the place buzzing and confident for next year - not bad for one of the youngest managers in the professional game. So it's been a good week to be on holiday and reflect on the deep and serious things by which men live. Sheila, by the way, has no problem with the non-inclusive 'men' in the last sentence - she wouldn't want to be included in the sad, perspective-limited, theatrical worldview that us football fans willingly pay money to inhabit.