Taking one for the team

South Coast town with running track for a stadium 2
Massive West Country Metropolis 2

FORGET the coaching skills of Paul Trollope, the never-say-die attitude of the players, and the enormous presence of goalkeeper Mikkel Andersen arriving in the penalty area to help us grab a point in the dying embers of our clash with league leaders Brighton.
Today's result was down to one thing, and one thing only. Me.
That's right.
Yes, I know I wasn't there, shouting my lungs out.
Yes, it's true, I didn't do a cloak-and-dagger scouting trip and pass on my finding to Trolls.
No, I didn't slip some sleeping drug into the Brighton players tea.
What I did was far worse than that... an absolute crime to many.
But I did it for the best of reasons.
I took one for the team.
As my regular reader will know, we have a game in the office that is called Saturday Survivor.
We put a tenner in the pot and then each Saturday have to pick a team that MUST win for you to survive.
And I was down to the final three with a nice bundle sitting in the pot for the winner.
So who did I pick today? Brighton.
And why did I pick them? Because I was sure if I had money riding on it they wouldn't win.
How right it proved.
My office cohorts couldn't believe me.
"Rippers, you bet against your own team? That's low," shouted the boss man, a West Ham fan, from across the room.
There followed a mixture of jeers, which grew as the afternoon progressed.
We went 1-0 up through Byron Anthony and people started ribbing me about losing my cash.
I couldn't care a jot. I was just hoping my ploy would work and the Gas would hang on.
Then the second half and Brighton hit back. It was 1-1, then 2-1 to them and, inevitably, our transfer target of last season Chris Wood grabbed the second from the penalty spot.
"Yah, disgusting," people were shouting... "Betting against your own team, pah."
I was ostricised, alienated...
Then laughter erupted around the room. With seconds to go we equalised through an own goal.
"Serves you right," the hordes were saying.
But what they couldn't see was the big grin spreading across my face.
A tenner? A possible £120 jackpot? Pah.
I gave it all up to get the Rovers a result.
Paul Trollope, I hope that cheques in the post!