I was in no fit state to post anything yesterday, it was hard enough getting through work my hangover from Sunday's celebrations was that bad!
I won a 2 day Poker tournament just after Christmas for just over 6 grand- foolishly, before play began on the 2nd day (I was reasonably well placed in the standings at that stage) I told the girlfriend that if I managed to win it, we could forget going up North for holidays this year as originally planned to save money and we'd have a 3 week holiday in Florida, splashing out on tickets to all the parks and everything.
I'm normally the guy who would be the one taking the piss out of mates who were on holidays, agreed to attend weddings etc. on Cup final day but this time, in an effort to miss the time when kids were on holiday and certain weeks at the start of June when certain festivals are held in the area, it was me who committed the cardinal sin. Without thinking about it, I forgot about the Scottish Cup Final and booked a holiday from the 5th to the 26th of May
When I first realised I was raging at myself, but told myself it wasn't that bad. We hadn't been to the final stages of the real cup since 2006. Scraping a win against Talbot then being held to a draw by St Johnstone was certainly no form for a team that would make it to the final. Even after Zal scored the late late winner up in Perth, after being held to a draw by the other Saints and the first 10 minutes through in Paisley it was still looking like the nightmare possibility of being away on holiday when Hearts were in the final had a very slim chance of actually happening. The bookies had us at long odds against Celtic, but when Griffiths scored on Saturday I knew the football gods were conspiring to teach me the biggest fucking organisational lesson of all time. Bad enough I'd be on holiday when Hearts were in the final- we're playing Hibs for the first time since 1896! (only 6 years before they last won it incidentally ). I was jumping around with the rest of my mates behind the goal after the game on Sunday right enough, but it was already forefront of my mind I wasn't going to be there when it mattered.
Things got worse when I got into work yesterday morning. My colleagues (the only 2 of whom profess any interest in Scottish football are both Celtic fans) were snidey, weaselly b*****ds. As soon as the final whistle went on Sunday most of them realised immediately the conundrum I had (I'm always getting the piss taken out of me for using holiday for European trips or for giving my time free because I'm on the Hearts Shareholders committee). It's bad enough when it's football fans because you can always take the piss out of them when their team has it tough, but these snivelling rodents (especially the Celtic fans) always have the "I couldn't give a shit" attitude when anything good happens to Hearts (or bad to Celtic). Combined with the hangover I already had, by the time I went home I'd lost my usual cool, calm, collected and level headed demeanour and was ready to lash out at anything (especially if it was Green).
The final straw was my old man (who's a Hibby, but normally forgivable because it was him who took me to Tynecastle when I was too young to go by myself) phoning up to take the piss. Immediately after putting the phone down I jumped on the internet and looked for flights. £1200 later, my girlfriend and I (to be fair to her she didn't even try and convince me not to- the only condition was I paid for her to travel back and for her match ticket!) are now leaving Orlando on the 17th, arriving in Edinburgh on the 18th and heading back to Orlando on the 20th. I'd be shitting myself anyway about the final (no idea how I'm going to sleep before then) but the possibility that I've just paid £1200 to watch Hibs end their hoodoo against Hearts is actually literally sickening. The alternative (and I'm more than willing to accept the challenge of convincing airport staff I'm sober enough to fly on the Sunday) will be one of the best days of my life and well worth 10 times the amount paid.
The same work colleagues today are telling me I'm crazy, and are incredulous that I'd go to such lengths because "of a game". Maybe they're right, but part of me thinks it's actually envy- what do they have in their lives (besides family) that they're passionate enough about to "justify" such craziness?
Bring on the Hibees.