A textbook Palace tragedy

LIKE so many modern marriages, my relationship to Crystal Palace is now conducted almost exclusively through text message.

There has been no great schism — she did not return home one night to find me cosying up to Millwall. Instead, work commitments on Saturday afternoons mean I am reliant on shorthand updates delivered by a season ticket-holding friend.

This could have been a good thing. Rather than end up as one of those characters who would like nothing better than to shuffle off this mortal coil while wedged into the same seat they have occupied for over 30 years, being forced away from Selhurst Park should have created some much-needed emotional distance.