I never describe myself as a sports fan, because I am not a fanatic in the true sense. The amount of brain power which goes into remembering names, dates, scores, horses' dams, refereeing decisions, etc could be better put towards finding a cure for cancer IMHO. But I do enjoy watching a good game, or skilled people giving their absolute all. And I certainly have an eye for an "event".
And so I am sitting watching the Scottish Cup Final between Hibs and Hearts. The first for 116 years. If you care at all, you know how big a deal this is. If you don't care at all, you don't care at all. And that's fine. But I have some close friends and colleagues (and even some family) who are just about puking with nervousness and excitement today.
If you live in Edinburgh it is almost impossible to be entirely neutral today, so I will, just for this once, pin my colours to the mast and admit that I am a Hearts fan for the day. Why? Well, for two very good reasons. First, it is the chosen team for Boy 3 (of 3), who was there last time the Jam Tarts won in 2006, and it was the chosen team for my grandfather – my Papa – who is long gone (1964) but was a lifelong Jambo. Second, most of my mates when I was growing up were Hibs supporters, and I have always been a bit cussed! It is NOT because Hearts are currently a goal up.
Just to complete a big day of football (or soccer as I love to call it to wind people up!), I will also be supporting Chelsea later. Why? Well, because my Singing Uncle was a Chelsea fan man and boy.
Right, half time and Mrs WeeKeef has made scones.