Truly, in football, there’s always someone worse off than yourself
Truly, in football, there’s always someone worse off than yourself. Unless, that is, your team is Heart of Midlothian
In the autumn of 1992 I cycled from London to Zagreb. Why? Long story. Anyway, I wound up in Prague one evening, saddle-sore and somewhat lonesome. I’d spent many nights sitting alone in bars and restaurants in big towns and small since I’d pedalled off the ferry in Hamburg a couple of weeks before. I got a beer, ordered some food, and opened my book. After a day’s cycling I usually nodded off within a couple of hours and soon repaired to bed. Not tonight. It must have been two in the morning when I rolled in. Then again, it might have been earlier or later; the details are as hazy now as they were the following morning.
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