ETHICS AND REPRESSION IN THE BLOO TOON

By Blair Smith
Contact the author via Chris Johnstone by e-mail at christopher.johnstone@ntlworld.com

It was inevitable, my loss of professional restraint. Discussing this case of two broken legs with my practice colleagues had drawn on the full extent of my intellectual resilience. I was exercising all of my powers, experience and training to retain objectivity, and prevent my emotions from affecting my views. My colleagues were equally professional, recognizing my autonomy, respecting my confidentiality, but nonetheless holding, to a man, the diametrically opposite view. For two hours, I was able to allow and respect theirs, but it became more and more difficult, as passions rose higher and higher. My lips were quivering, my whole body tense. Eventually, I could hold it back no longer. A strong surge of pure emotion rushed through me, and I had to shout, though I knew it was wrong.

“GOAL!!!!!”

For we were standing in Balmoor Stadium, the home of Peterhead Football Club, and the “case” was the second leg of the promotion play-off against Partick Thistle. Readers may be familiar with my (slightly pathological) support of The Jags, but nowhere had this become such an obvious part of my constitution than here. The winner of the two-leg match would be promoted to the First Division, while the loser would be consigned to the ignominy of another driech season in windswept stadia across Second Division Scotland. Having lost the first, “home” leg and having seen the weather forecast, my sons and I went to Balmoor with raincoats and low hopes, pushed even lower when Peterhead scored in the 4th minute. In the event these accoutrements were not needed. Thistle scored once, then braved an onslaught of attacks against their open goal before scoring in the last minute of injury time, taking the match to injury time then penalty kick deciders. Our problem was that, this being an all-ticket match and my only being able to buy tickets between house-calls in Peterhead a few days earlier, we were forced to stand with the Peterhead fans, rather than among our “own” Thistle fans.

This was the first time I had observed the formidable Thistle Army from a distance rather than from within, and it was an impressive sight and sound. Compared with the rather anaemic vocal support given to our opponents, the loud and colourful throng must have given an advantage equivalent to at least one extra player, and probably fuelled the belief that they could score the necessary goals, right up until the dying second of the match. Being a fan sitting in the opposing camp, though, was an unwanted experience. For a start, we couldn't join in the songs (“You only sing when you're fishing, sing when you're fishing…”). I've written before about how being among fellow supporters when your team scores a goal is probably the best experience available to mankind. I now know the opposite effect, of being among opposing fans when their team scores. It feels like your world is caving in. All about me, strangers were shouting and hugging strangers, my colleagues were hugging each other in celebration of my worst fear, and patting me patronisingly. I wanted to be anywhere else than there. Worse, when Thistle scored a few minutes later, I strained my throat in keeping my roar of pleasure at bay, unable to express my pleasure for fear of retribution from the individuals who surrounded me. At that time, they appeared ugly and threatening - and that was just the Peterhead GPs; you should have seen the rest.

The breaking point, though, came during the penalty shoot-out. It would take more space than the editor allows to describe the waves of conflicting thoughts, feelings, wishes and passions that affected every observer of this part of the match. When, though, Paul Ritchie scored the penalty that has taken Partick Thistle to the First Division, the boys and I could hold it no more. We let it all out in a flood of cheering, dancing and hugging. For our own safety, as well as through instinct we bolted on to the pitch, joining the two thousand or so travelling Thistle fans in an ecstatic communal version of these activities. We embraced people at random, made new friendships based solely on what we had seen and were now singing, and fulfilled the innate desire for tribal success that troubles the sole of everyman. Joy at winning such an important match, in such exciting circumstances was immense. But even greater was the relief at being able, at last, to express such powerful emotions freely, after such a difficult and prolonged repression.

We did spare a thought, eventually, after the heat had gone out of our cheering (about three days later), for Peterhead FC and their fans, who had believed they would be celebrating their own promotion, until the last few seconds of the two-leg match. Their cheers were swallowed permanently. We also spared a thought for Morton FC, who had ended the season 13 points ahead of both Peterhead and Partick Thistle, but had been beaten in the first stage of the promotion play-offs (“Let's all laugh at Morton, let's all laugh at Morton, ha ha ha ha, ha ha ha ha...” Sorry, guys).

There have been more lows than highs supporting Partick Thistle. But that only makes the highs higher, and this was the highest of them all, all of which was very therapeutic. This is better than any anti-depressant, counselling, complementary medicine, or life skills course, and should be recommended in the standard formulary. I was happy and buoyed up, ready to face work and life with a full heart. Even the sour-faced looks I got when I wore my PTFC tie in Peterhead were not enough to lower my mood. AS I write, we're on the brink of the 2006 Football World Cup competition, to which I am looking forward with relish, and with the expectation of further therapeutic benefit. Readers will be aware of the international conspiracy that prevented Scotland's inclusion in this year's World Cup. At least this will also prevent the serious adverse therapeutic reaction of my team losing, a facility not routinely available to Partick Thistle fans.

Other hoolet online articles by Blair Smith can be found at:
hoolet edition 49 - Ethics and Repression in the Bloo Toon
hoolet edition 48 - May The Best Team Win
hoolet edition 47 - Hunting Pink Elephants
hoolet edition 46 - Predictive Texting
hoolet edition 45 - Role Models
hoolet edition 44 - Time To Go Killorglin'
hoolet edition 43 - Salt and Shake
hoolet edition 42 - Stepping up the Pace of Life
hoolet edition 41 - Smoking out the Irish Question
hoolet edition 40 - Not Cricket
hoolet edition 39 - Anniversaries and Predictions
hoolet edition 38 - Is There Life on Mars?
hoolet edition 36 - Onwards and Upwards
hoolet edition 35 - Goal of the Season‘s Greetings
hoolet edition 34 - Chickens and Eggs
hoolet edition 33 - On Shifting Goalposts
hoolet edition 32 - Period Zero
hoolet edition 30 - Annual Appraisal
hoolet edition 29 - Working Towards Scotland's Healthier Children For Us All 2020 and A Framework for Maternity Services in Scotland
hoolet edition 28 - In Memoriam Admiral Byng. A cautionary Tale

hoolet is the magazine of RCGP Scotland. It is supported intellectually, financially and emotionally by RCGP Scotland.

This issue maintained by Robert Hallam.