This week The Controller exerted her control. Some time ago she had invited friends for Sunday lunch - having first checked the all-important home fixture list. And so it came to pass that the Murdoch Corporation, in the guise of Sky Sports, turned aside from hacking phones into hacking marital harmony by rearranging the game from Saturday to Sunday at the very same lunchtime.
So there was no way I was going to be able to go. I offered my season ticket to my son, Jack, but having given up his following relegation, it was not tempting. My other son, Joe, brought his significant other, Hannah, to the last home game and she obviously saw enough not to want to repeat the experience. So it was difficult to give the ticket away. Not a problem West Ham have as far as goals are concerned.
I did, of course, record the game, and between courses of lunch (intercourse?) found an excsue or seven to check on the score.
But I haven't watched it in its entirety and won't now, since, for the second home game in succession, the team managed to concede in the 91st minute.
What a shame that that nice Mr Bates (who gave it as his opinion that the riots last week were caused by not enough emphasis on human responsibilities as opposed to rights. Like the responsibility to pay your taxes, maybe, Mr Bates of Monaco?) will have enjoyed the result.
Big Fat Sam needs to tell the team that the game lasts until it's over and that keeping the ball at the other end is a good way of stopping the opposition scoring. So is stopping crosses and marking people in the box, but let's not carried away.
Good game to miss.
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