Matchday. And the day started like any other. I’m a rituals man. And a believer in feng shui, with my back to the mountain, facing the view. Or the enemy. And i like my rituals. And match day is a big day. I don’t like to drift from the path. I like to progress into the day like any other matchday. Don’t like to shake it up or the earth may open up.
Wake up. It’s Thursday. Bowl of muesli. Matchday I like to eat all day. I know I may not get dinner, so I just like to eat big. And it calms the nerves. No-one wants to fight on an empty stomach. Then Newtown for a blueberry bagel with game. Same Every Thursday. Just carbo-loading from the morning. Shortblack to wash it down.
Struggle through to lunchtime. Then its off to Waiters (club) for a big pasta. Penne calabrese. Tomato base with salami and capsicum. I pick around the capsicum. Another shortblack.
But this is where the day began to unfold. On this particular Thursday I decided to break the ritual and lunch with a friend. Most of my work friends know I’m as stubborn as shit when it comes to my lunch rituals and rules. Can’t eat last night’s leftovers. Can’t eat at the place I ate for lunch the previous day. Must eat pasta on a Thursday. Anyway, I couldn’t be bothered going all dictorial on my friend, and so we lunched in this nice little café (superfino). His choice. Nice little salami flatbread, with a portuguese tart to follow. Shortblack. All very nice. But it really didn’t fill me up the way I like.
And so I went into the game a little underprepared. Sure it didn’t help having only 4 players. And half of those sporting injuries. The prematch contraversy had also thrown the team. The game fell apart and we went down. And there niggling in the back of my mind were the words in large font, “I should have eaten pastaâ€. But I’ll never know. Was the dark cloud the lack of carbos? I’m a superstitious man.
Was good to ‘chief it up’ postmatch with a big steak, asparagus and mash on the side. Pepper sauce. good to wash away the postmatch aftertaste.
But the highlight was the dessert trip to Jock’s icecream. Pistachio, and Coconut Ginger in a waffle cone. Spirit-lifting.
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A dirty lose cleansed by a win for my tastebuds.
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