The glass isn’t just half empty, it’s shattered

Most football fans are absurdly optimistic. If clinging to a precipice, they’ll believe a hero’s riding to the rescue.

For me, the glass isn’t just half empty; it’s broken and dangerously pointing at my face. It’s the way God made me I’m afraid. Even with Souness and Dalglish in their pomp I rarely thought they’d prevail.

My eyebrows are permanently upright thanks to the wonders I saw then, out of amazement. Older doesn’t mean wiser, though. The skimpy portions God hands out nowadays aren’t appreciated.