Keeping Sane when Madness Takes its Toll

I'd write a match report of TFC-RSL, but seriously, what's the point? Arsenalist has already said most of what needs to be said about a match in which we failed to score despite being a man up for over an hour.

I think what we all need now, being deep into our 14th hour of play without a goal, is some group therapy and sharing of how to keep sane until we come to the end of the Valley of the Shadow of Death. I'd welcome your ideas via the comments function, but for now, here are my four suggestions.

1) Count your blessings. Northern Ireland went 1298 minutes without scoring a goal between late 2001 and early 2004. I haven't been able to determine if this is definitively the longest scoring drought in history, but it should do us for another six games, anyway.

2) Pretend you are at choir practice. Really, the singing is the only thing worth coming to the ground for, anyways, so why not make it the focus of your activities while there? Treat the events on the pitch as an annoying aside. Respect to the Red Patch Boys, btw, for trying - unfortunately without too much success - to make a go of the Forza TFC chant, (a variant of this smashing and intimidating tifosi ditty). I was a little sad that no one thought my idea of singing "Three wives...you've only got three wives" to the RSL players was worth an effort, but nevertheless it was a good day for singing over all.

3) Credit Mo Johnston with a brilliant new invention - Tantric Football. Really, this delay in scoring is all part of the plan. We're going to build up slowly - not peak quickly - just keep building for hours and hours...and hours and hours....working around the edge of the box...really, the longer we wait to score, the better it will be...

4) Join the increasingly bizarre discussions with us up in Section 221. The most interesting discussion this week turned on Sonny's observation about the inherent similarities between tifo and The Rocky Horror Picture Show. Think about it: the role-playing, the dressing up, the singing, the co-ordinated reactions to events on-screen/on-pitch...

I really think this has potential. And Mo in Frank-n-Furter bondage gear-lingerie can't possibly be more of a sartorial disaster than the pastel French-cuff shirt, no-jacket no-tie combination he's been inflicting on us all season.

Screw the streamers - I'm bringing toast to the next match.