Day 4 (Cup Final Day) started early. My alarm went off at 6am as we had early morning prayers. Reverend Peter was in the bed opposite me and he was wearing my Cardiff City jimjams â how did he manage to get them? I didnât really care as my mind suddenly returned to the footie. This was the day the Bloobirds were going to win the Carling Cup and we were to return to South Wales as heroes, giving those Jack feckers a ear bashing in the process. After breakfast Pete (we were on first name terms now) told me to get a change of clothes and to wear his best dog collar. He had a fine selection, but when I returned he gasped âNot that one â use one of the white ones!!â I had to meet the Liverpool team at their hotel and go through some formalities. I was trying to avoid Bellers in case he blew my cover. Good job the journey was short â it sounded like the Lee Trundle show with all those fecking accents. One or two of the players wanted to say a prayer with me and one wanted to say confession - It was pretty juicy so I am off to The Sun tomorrow!!. Into Wembley Stadium and I could see some Bloobird fans practicing the *ankatollah already. My heart sank when we got inside because all we had to eat was feckin prawn and cucumber sandwiches and ponsy Rose wine. I WANTED A FECKIN CLARRRRKS PIE AND A PINT OF FECKIN BRAINS. Out into the seating area I went, resolved of any duties so I could watch the match in piece. The Bloobird fans were over the other side of the pitch â feck, I wish I was with them. But I knew the deal. The match started with Liverpool hitting the bar in the first minute. The place erupted and I had to stand up to show willing. I was getting more and more agitated. Four days without Brains beer and Clarks pies, the lack of booze today and all this good behaviour and clean living was taking its toll. With that, Mason was through on goal and buried it â Bloobirds 1 Scousers 0. I totally lost it. Mason ran in front of us â I belted down the steps and started an unrestrained version of the *ankatollah and giving it large. Fecking, fecking brilliant â I turned around and â F*ck, thousands of Scousers rising out of their seats ready to give me a whipping. There was only one thing to â RUN. I jumped over the barrier, onto the pitch, down the tunnel and out of the stadium. I didnât stop there. I ran and I ran and I ran. I knew what I had done. I had broken my promise - which meant that whatever happened now the Bloobirds were going to lose the cup final and it was all MY fecking fault. There were a couple of Scousers still chasing me, but I managed to jump on a Tube and give them the fingers as the doors closed. Again I was alone. My world had come to end. I would be despised by my own fans and could surely never go to Cardiff again. I admit a small tear rolled down my check when suddenly the lights in the Tube went out. It went silent. Out of the darkness a vision appeared. It was God. âJohnâ it said âJohn. You have been a bad boy. You have let your Club down, you have written naughty things on the not606 message boards and you have shown no remorse at any stage for your actions. It is time for change. You need to mend your ways, support a proper Club where the fans are respected, the team plays attractive football and you are relieved of the hatred and aggression within you. You must follow Swansea Cityâ âSwansea fecking City?â I said. âSee what I mean?â said God. âAs soon as you open your mouth it is filled with filth. Change your ways, become a better person. SEE THE WHITE. Your name is John. The old nickname for John was Jack. YOU will be Swansea Jackâ. With that, God disappeared. I realised I had no option. It WAS time for change. As the Tube pulled into the next station I got off and went to the nearest sports shop. âIâll have a fecking.... sorry. Iâll have a Swansea City shirt pleaseâ. I walked out of the shop proud as punch. I had been converted. I am a Swansea Jack. I WILL drink in the Pilot and I WILL go to Swansea University! Suddenly someone shouted at me from across the road - âYou Jack, bas*ard, you Jack bas*ard!â. I was about to punch him when I suddenly remembered it was a mark of respect. Someone actually respected me! I gave him a wave. The world is suddenly a better place. I will be at Wigan next week watching Premiership football, because the Swans are in the Premiership and it has been killing me for ages! I am going to get on the not606 boards when I get home and have a âluv inâ with mustyfrog, dragonphill, swimaway and all the other Jack Bas*ards, although I hope PGF gets his ban from the Cardiff Board overturned â that is a bit over the top. That is it then lads. I have got to get back to Newport by tomorrow. But just to finish the weekend off I may just call in to Marlborough to see my mate Roger the Barman on the way home! UP THE JACKS For the Record Liverpool won the Carling Cup Final on penalties. Man of the Match was shared between Kenny Millar for a fine finish in the 88th minute and Anthony Gerrard for an outstanding penalty. It marked a fine sporting weekend for Wales. The Welsh Rugby team won the Triple Crown for wins against Scotland, England and Ireland. Cardiff City Football Club also had a Triple Crown â Blackpool, Portsmouth & Liverpool.
Sutch a sweet sensitive touching tale and i think it only right to call the "Hero" jack from now on as it is a derivative anyway
very funny. good laugh from start to finish. they can come home and do a tour of the city knowing that they're wales' hat trick heroes.
Hatrick zero's more like ! I remember us losing on pens to Barnsley and all the gloating and cheering from the dark side of the force. Karma's a bitch ! Genuine sympathy to the genuine Cardiff fans because it's a horrible way to lose
Brilliant read...surely Cardiff fans can see the funny side in this.......they support Cardiff so must have a sense of humor!
