dannyboy wrote:
Watched a movie last night
In the movie there is a reference to a bloke ferrying Carlton players to an island...brought back the memories of those early days with Bolton...the hope this club had turned around, had accepted the draft and the need to develop their own players etc...then of course we sacked Bolton and in came Teague...Teague, like Bolton, Like Malthouse, Like Ratts, like Pagan, like Brittain...each new coach brings new hope but that hope each time is diminished...the wick can only be lit so many times, the flame to burn into a season or two or three and then comes the replacing, the sell, the blowing out of the flame and relighting it...each time noticing the candle is less than it was...How many times can this flame be relit before there is nothing left...nothing but memories of what once was, memories so faded the youngsters need to dredge up memories of grandparents and before to recall any fledging flap of success.
I stand here, the flame flickering, the flame to be snuffed out again I think, waiting for the board to sell the new messiah, the new lord, the new set of players, the new chessboard and I admit I grow tired of reaching for the matches.
Maybe darkness is all there is with this club. Another to be snuffed out as a reminder nothing lasts for ever, nothing ever has, nothing ever will...
not even hope.
Vicious, depressing cycle.
Forever destined to be also rans.
Until they prove otherwise.