Once again, my weekend has been ruined. Nothing major or horrific has happened, I still have my health, my family is well, and I went out with friends. But again, my football team, Heart Of Midlothian have lost.
My tale is one similar to many. You’re brought up supporting the team your dad supports, because his dad supported them and so did his dad and so on. Heart of Midlothian have been in my family for generations and the buck doesn’t stop here with me, my two brothers and cousin all having season tickets for the 5th season in a row. But it is only now I’m coming to the realisation this is a toxic relationship between me and hearts.
The feelings of frustration, sadness and emptiness have become all to common for me. To many this seems like an insensitive and ridiculous comment to make. How can something so futile as watching 22 men kick a ball be described as toxic? The amount of sheer hatred and fury that watching Hearts produces from myself and thousands of others is nothing short of disgraceful and frankly pathetic. Yet I still go every week, home and away. This season alone I’ve gone to 28 games and were not halfway through. This club brings so much anger but I always think they can change. No matter how bad they are and how mad they make me by Wednesday/ Thursday I’ve bought match tickets, train or bus tickets and organised my whole weekend around them. I insist on coming back because I know nothing in my life makes me happier than watching Hearts win. I can’t begin to describe the feeling. Beating one of our rivals will make my week and improve my mood ridiculously and I’ll be the happiest guy in the room. But at this current stage in my life nothing makes me more down than Hearts and nothing can make me happier than Hearts. That for me is toxic.
Salt & Sauce Soccer 