The law of averages is a lay term used to express a belief that outcomes of a random event will "even out" within a small sample. Or so says Wikipedia. It's a West Ham supporter's term used to express a belief that, having beaten Stoke twice, and drawn once this season, having the incentive of a semi-final at Wembley, having already lost a two-goal lead to get to a Wembley final, and having been on a good run of form, we were bound to lose this one.
So now, in common with Arsenal, we shall be concentrating on the league. Also in common with Arsenal, we shall win f*ck all this year. Again.
Dear old Avram seems to have lost his midas touch for cup finals. Chelsea to the European Champions League Final, Portsmouth to the FA Cup, now West Ham fail in both the Fizzy-pop and the FA Cup. Perhaps he'll also lose his relegation record, but I think he'll keep that one going (my son says in the papers it says how much he wants to stay at Upton Park. So do I, but I think we're going to the Olympic Stadium and we can leave him behind).
Stoke are now in a semi-final with Bolton to find out who lose the final to one Manchester team or other. Not a game I'll be watching. Not sour grapes, but I wouldn't want to watch Stoke more than four times in a season. Actually, not more than once and that's a stretch.
Today's game was typical of them - power and determination, well-organised and not much football, even though Etherington and Pennant, to name two, can play. But, predictably, West Ham couldn't stand up against it.
The referee was awful fairly equally. Our goal was a handball, however much I will say it was controlled by Piquionne on his shoulder. The ref gave a non-existant penalty at the start of the second half obviously to even things up, but Rob Green saved magnificently. So the ref later gave a soft free-kick for Carlton avoiding a ball in the face, and then somehow saw Tomkins being wrestled to the ground in the Stoke area by Walters as a free kick for Stoke. After Upson hit the bar with a header it was obvious we weren't going to get anything.
So we could watch the waste of space that is Robbie Keane, misplacing passes and gesticulating at team mates as if it were their fault that he's crap. We could marvel at Upson's inability to pass to a teammate over any distance more than five yards (and sometimes not even then). We could count the number of times that Bridge gave the wide man time to have a cup of tea, read the paper and then cross the ball before he got anywhere near to close (and all, as I repeatedly told the telly, for ninety grand a week).
On the other hand, we could see Rob Green being, well, brilliant again. We could see Scotty Parker (the E-on Man of the Match, as if that's worth claiming) easily the best player on display. And we could see that just maybe, it could be a blessing in disguise not to have any more cup games.
Just as long as we remember to win the league games.
I'm still bitter we lost. But The Controller won't need to vacate the premises because she can't stand the vitriol, abuse, foul language and naked despair on show when we play on the telly.
Well, not till next week when I shall be watching in Norfolk while she, no doubt, shops in Holt, and even the dogs keep well away.
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