Singing the Blues

WHAT a great time to be a Gashead.
Not only are we enjoying the lofty position of ninth in league one, but our noisy neighbours Bristol City have been extremely quiet of late.
All that early season of optimism, the appointment of Steve Coppell, the signing of England goalkeeper David James... it's all gone horrible wrong.
Early on Saturday my work mate told me with - I must admit a bit of mischievous glee in his voice - that City were 2-0 up. At high-flying Cardiff.
This was the same workmate who had taken great pleasure in informing me at the start of the season that he had wedged a great deal of his hard-earned on the Trashton Gate mob to win promotion. Where could it all go wrong?
Well, for starters Coppell quit after two weeks, honestly admitting he had fallen out of love with the game. Being manager of the Sh**heads, as we affectionately know them, can do that to you, I'm sure.
And then they appointed their long-suffering assistant manager Keith Millen to the hot seat on a three-year contract.
Cue more big-money signings, more optimism and . . . a wave of bad results that even the most fatalistic of our Bristol brethren couldn't have imagined.
Anyway, to this Saturday. City bottom of the league but 2-0 up.
Not for long. By the early part of the second half it is 2-2 and by the full-time whistle Cardiff have managed to grab a winner.
Leaving City stranded at the foot of the table.
Oh my word. It's not even 2 o'clock yet.
And as the afternoon goes on things get better.
Right on the stroke of half time a shout goes up across the office, some enthusiastic cockney who is feeding off my new-found enthusiasm and attempting a rather poor imitation of a Brizzle accent.
"Roooovvveeers!"
I look up at the screen and we're 1-0 up. A Jeff Hughes penalty breaking the stubborn resistance of the mighty Rochdale. Oh, things can only get better.
And they do.
With minutes left I am looking at the BBC website table, which shows you the positions if the scores remain the same by the end of the game.
I've both fingers crossed and anticipating the fact that we could be in the top half of the table, just a couple of points away from an automatic promotion place.
Then it's 2-0 and the much-maligned Chris Lines has put us in comfortable command of the game.
Well. Almost.
Because it is absolutely NEVER like that as a Gashead. However much you feel things are going right, there is always going to be a nervous few moments at the end of a Saturday evening.
Sure enough. Four minutes to go and our reliable centre back Byron Anthony has put through his own net.
Hence a white knuckle ride to the end of the game and I'm not able to relax before the final score comes through.
And Rovers always seem to be one of the LAST results to come up.
Finally. Finally.
Big City in the West Country 2, Pokey little place ooop north whose ground sits next to the wonderfully named Cemetery Hotel 1.
"Never felt more like singing the Blues, when Rovers win and the City lose"
As a Gashead you KNOW it can't last.
At some stage, you realise, City will start winning games.
And at some stage, you fear, Rovers will start slipping backwards.
That's why you make the most of every minute, every hour, every day that goes by - walking around with a smile on your face and a song in your heart.
For once, for once, Rovers have the bragging rights in the eternal battle for one-upmanship over our sworn nemesis.