Finger pointing. One hand clapping. Find your friend. Form a long queue for the bogs. Another beer on the settee. Wave your phone around cos it's buffering then press buttons randomly and furiously and lose the entire stream until the match has ended. Say "look there's Toby Tyke" to yourself. Set up a 'kick a ball through a hole in a piece of wood' game. Stand there with your hands in your pockets jumping on the spot. Knock your flask over and watch it roll and bounce down several steps to oblivion. Take penalties against your wife in the kitchen and run round the house when you win. The half time ads on tv convince you that now is the time to get that stairlift, apply for the over 50s funeral insurance and decide where your ashes are to go after your simple cremation.
You’ve missed the part when ( not if) we score, punching the air and shouting yes, followed by the clenching of both fists and again shouting yes, yes, yes gerrin theer. Then trying to return to an acceptable state of mind and body as your family look on at you. Not at half time of course
Is he watching the match with you? Hope you are socially distanced. He used to wander lonely as a cloud so take care of him.