To come to Oakwell, twice, with a 100% win record, and her attendance clearly being the determining factor in our seasons success, she now can't make today. However, I have instead convinced my 13 year old daughter, who hass zero interest, to go to her first ever football match. I've just spent breakfast time explaining the merits of Ogbeta creating space down the left by adopting a high full back position and the nuances of Luca Connell's role as the pivot, all soundtracked by Timerider. Predictions are a nil nil draw.
My Niece came to 2/3 home games last season. We lost all 3 if I remember right. (Didn't win so I blamed her. Feeble excuse I know lol. ) Been to a couple this season won both. Thank the lord or I would lock her in the house on game day
Would be interested to know if she is hooked or whether it will be her one and only appearance at Oakwell
My wife's been to oakwell once , the 7-1 against Huddersfield, that result hasn't convinced her to ever return to oakwell. Unbelievable really
I'm not holding out too much hope, not least because her stage school starts again next week and doesn't finish in time to get down from York. Which will also restrict my attendance. Definitely think my partner will come again on the weekends we're at home and don't have my daughter though.
My wife has been to only one - when Isiah Rankin scored in the 89th to keep us up, against Brentford was it? I only wheel her out on special occasions
Explain the off-side rule to her with the salt and pepper pot (and cruette, and sugar bowl, tomato and brown sauce bottles, vinegar, mayo and chilli flakes. You'll probably also have to include the box of cornflakes still in the cupboard but we're last used in the build up to the current table setting). Video it and put it on here so that we can all understand the current rules.
I once finished with a girlfriend cos she was unlucky. Took her to Oakwell twice and 2 defeats. That was enough.
Unlucky girlfriend? What about my cursed trainers. I got them for my birthday in September 2015, we lost every match I wore them to, dropping to the bottom of the table and culminating in that game at Altrincham, where we got even wetter than we did walking home today (my waterproof anorak is nothing of the sort, I was drenched to the skin when I got home today!). When I finally got back from Altrincham, thanks to the delays on the train, the cursed trainers went in the warm cupboard to dry out and I left them there. And then we started to win. And win. And win. We went to Wembley, won a trophy. We went back to Wembley, won another trophy and promotion. And all the while the cursed trainers remained off my feet. Some say it was the signing of Hammill. Some say it was the understanding between Hourihane and Winnall. But we all know the real reason for the fantastic surge to victory in 2016, it was the rain in Altrincham and the death of my cursed trainers. The cursed trainers are now my gardening shoes (which means they get used roughly the same amount of times our Christmas dinner plates), so if you hear of someone losing a leg in a freak gardening accident it won’t be a comedy rock drummer…
