Peer Pressure

I was one of those strange teenagers that was oddly resistant to peer pressure. Yet now, when I am dam well old enough to know better and don’t have the folly of youth to waive around as some kind of straw clutching excuse I have fallen victim to it. And it’s not even from my friends either. No. Yours truly has peer pressured himself into slogging my way all the way to Exeter on Saturday to see Barnet (probably lose) and tick off another ground on the way to joining the 92 club.

It has now dawned on me that this will involve getting up at 6.30 am, on a Saturday. It will involve getting home after midnight. It will involve spending around £75 all in. The weather is due to be freezing. I don’t actually want to bloody go any more. And I could actually get to Portman Road on Saturday and see better football for half the all in price, have a lie in and still tick off another ground. There is simply no excuse for me to be going to Devon.

And yet…… there’s this little bit of me that would feel embarrassed to not go now. That bit that has told people that he’s going and doesn’t really want to back down now that they’ve told me that I’m “sad”, “a football geek” and “need to grow up”.

As things stand it could go either way.

Welcome to my sad little world.