Back in the day when an Aberdeen appearance in a Scottish Cup final was a reasonably regular occurrence, the prospect of playing some lower Division canon-fodder was generally greeted in the same manner that the owner of an abattoir welcomes another delivery of mangy cows and sheep to his premises. We’d hack and slice our way through our hapless opponents in a determined, if not always pretty fashion, to emerge victorious and quite often blood stained at the end of it all. Yes, football was a man’s game in them days…
But oh, how the ravages of time have made a seemingly innocuous game against a team that’s fourth from the bottom of the First division the sort of affair that would have you watching the highlights from behind the sofa through the fingers of your hands, your buttocks clenched so tight that not even the most perfectly formed gaseous excretions could get out, and cramp sets in after the first five minutes.
I realise I am being rather hard on my beloved AFC of late (ref: our previous posting), but fuck it, I feel like a right spanner walking around IKEA on a Saturday morning in my replica top being pointed and laughed at by small children; the parents are generally not much better either. Things have got to change, starting tomorrow. So, back the meat wagon up against the doorway at Stark’s Park and herd those Raith Rovers players into the whirling knives of our killer attack.
Oh, there are some other games on as well, by the way. Continue reading →
