It's The Same The World Over
Ebbsfleet United, to which GASL has devoted comprehensive and thoughtful coverage beginning one year ago this week, took the FA Trophy on Saturday in a match against Torquay as the sporting world stilled to listen.
The BBC had a live stream via BBC Devon, which featured the Torquay announcers. Set aside, if you will, thoughts of the empty void that is this scribe's life given that he spent a goodly portion of his Saturday morning on English Conference soccer. I actually enjoyed listening to it despite the fact that I couldn't name a player on either club and the only thing I know about English Conference Football is that Ebbsfleet is fan owned and I stupidly failed to buy a share last year.
I was vaguely rooting for Ebbsfleet, weighing my scant knowledge of their club against the fact that I once drove through Torquay (frequently the deciding factor in who I root for in European soccer). So I hardly had enough passion to warrant wasting 90 minutes of my weekend on this. Yet, I kept listening. What made it enjoyable wasn't the match itself, which I could barely follow. Rather it was following the slow descent into despair of the Torquay announcers. Their club was the favorite and after Ebbsfleet snagged a late first half goal, their second half demeanor kept reminding me of something familiar that I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Then it hit me. I was enjoying the English version of one of my favorite guilty pleasures -- following the emotional meltdown of a certain announcer as his team pisses away yet another game. I know taking delight in the suffering of legless diabetics is not on most top ten lists of virtuous behavior, but still....
