Goal!

Final Score: Blackpool 1 Barnsley 0

What a goal! It was worth freezing in the rain for that winning thriller that brought a lump to my throat and a tear to my eye. Thank you, Jordan Brown - sorry, Barnsley.

A football match can work me up into a passionate frenzy, as those who were with me when Manchester United won the Treble can testify. I was born in Sale into a Manchester family of MUFC fans. My grandfather had known one of the Busby Babes and often spoke of the Munich air crash. Like many girls my age, I had a teenage crush on George Best. I cried when he died. I cried when England's David Beckham got sent off in the World Cup - petulant boy. I was so cross with him! I wept with joy when Ryan Giggs scored 'that' goal. Tears streamed when Sir Alex Ferguson stepped down from management. Love him or hate him, it marked the end of an era. The Fergie Years, probably an unmatchable achievement, would go down in history.

Attending Bloomfield Road, supporting my home team, I manage to keep my lady-like composure most of the time, even when I don't agree with a referee's judgement.

Away from football, personal resilience and strength has taken a hit recently and as we work our way back, plans have had to be rearranged, new goals have been set. A newly decorated lounge has given us enough confidence to continue those skills into other rooms with the aim of our house being ready to go on the market early next year. I will complete the grandchildren's Christmas jumpers by mid-November. My birthday will pass quietly. Christmas will look after itself. We will bounce back, eventually. 

Sadly, I will miss Tuesday evening's home fixture against Luton. I'll be supporting from afar and hoping for Blackpool goals. If Jerry is playing, I hope he is kind.

A poem that gives me inspiration,

Still I Rise

You may write me down in history

With your bitter, twisted lies,

You may trod me in the very dirt

But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?

Why are you beset with gloom?

'Cause I walk like I've got oil Wells

Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,

With the certainty of tides,

Just like hopes springing high,

Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?

Bowed head and lowered eyes?

Shoulders falling down like teardrops,

Weakened by my soulful cries?

Does my haughtiness offend you?

Don't you take it awful hard

'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines

Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,

You may cut me with your eyes,

You may kill me with your hatefulness,

But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?

Does it come as a surprise

That I dance like I've got diamonds

At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame

I rise

Up from a past that's rooted in pain

I rise

I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,

Welling and swelling I beat in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear

I rise

Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear

I rise

Bring the gifts that my ancestors gave

I am the dream and the hope of the slave

I rise

I rise

I rise

                             Maya Angelou

Thanks for reading, Pam x