What's the point of a preview anyway? You all know the score with this shit. We win, it's mad good, we don't and it's shite as. I haven't a fucking clue. You can cite all the XG you like, or shout about 'it's the quality of the recycled ball in the second transition that gives us the edge' but it doesn't mean it's going to happen. I'm convinced the preview-itus of the modern era is all about betting anyway. Or filling up pay TV schedules. It can't have escaped your attention that you aren't paying £23.99 a month for MCLF (not yet anyway) so I'm not duty bound to bore the living shit out of you by telling you what might or might not happen in order to fill up the dreary wasted hours of our lives.
Here's instead, is what is happening on the Blackpool Battle Bus right now. Don't ask me how I know. I'd have to kill you.
Gaz Maz is saying 'Y'know what gaffer, I reckon I could go from the start if you need me like - mind, y'wouldna want me out for Wembley so mebbes not eh?' Sullay and Keshi are having a silent stare off. The first one to blink loses the shirt - it's been 2 hours and neither have. Elliot Embleton is trying to pop up between them and get them to both blink, so he can win, but no one is taking any notice. Big Marvin is trying not to hope Jordan Thorniley trips up getting off the bus. He's thought about tying his shoelaces together, but to be fair, if you're Marv, it's a long way down to another fella's feet.
Ollie Turton is sat at the front with the coaching staff. Jordan Gabriel is glumly sat with Ethan Robson who is telling him 'Look, he's like his son, it's not your fault mate, they even part their hair the same way' Everyone is really hoping Grant Ward is fit but Kevin Stewart has been given a copy of a coaching manual called 'The other team's half and you' just in case. Chris Maxwell is staring straight ahead, saying nothing, mentally rehearsing making brilliant saves and saying sensible, focussed, purposeful things.
Ellis Simms has a pair of those massive fuck off superstar headphones on and some cool as fuck shades. Jerry is fast asleep after Critch lost his patience with him bouncing up and down the aisles and stopped at a greyhound track to let him run around for an hour chasing the rabbit. Demi wanted a go too, but Critch wouldn't let him and is now shouting 'are we there yet?' every ten minutes making Critch wish he had let him after all.
Jimmy the Topknot god, Kenny Dougall and not so fragile anymore Luke are swapping tips on the best pomade and talking about bamboo crockery and coffee machines. Dan Ballard is just looking like a big kid having the absolute time of his life and hoping there'll be something to head soon. He's not stopped looking around since they got on the bus, drinking it all in, loving every second of it. He's been counting the traffic lights and filling in an i-spy book of coach journeys. He needs a wee but he doesn't want to leave his seat and miss out on the chance to see an ambulance.
The silver fox is plotting. He's brought his A game tactical masterclass, his best massive coat (and his best body warmer for if it's mild.) Janine has packed him turkey sandwiches (half and half bread) and he's got a his favourite whiteboard markers. He trusts the process. He's calm, because he always is. He knows what he's going to do. He'll breath deeply and stick to the plan, whilst Karl Robinson and his shitty white trainers chucks a fit in the stands.
Colin has been practicing his best staring. He stared so long at a rosebush in his garden, it withered and died at the weekend.
Steve Banks has the blue folder. He's told Chris Maxwell all about Eric shithouse Nixon, Maxwell was appalled and so they did some extra brilliant diving practice just to get the anger out of their systems. Mike Garrity has been to Macro and got a case of shandy in the event of a win (0.5% volume, 1 per player, and a lemonade for Brad Holmes) and some throat sweets so he can shout Critch's instructions in his best loud voice.
Everything is in order. Everything is as it should be.
How will we go tomorrow? I don't know - but they won't let us down. They've come to far together to not give this their all. Their all is what they always give. Together is what they always are. They're fucking marvelous.
C'mon you POOOOOOL!!!!
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