September 15th: Leicester City v Peterborough United (Championship)
The hi-tech ultra-reliable electronic bus stop (which uses GPS and has an in-built voice-activated timetable and coffee vending machine and is definitely not a simple random number generator, honest) says the next bus is in 39 minutes, but that's obviously a lie because I can see one going in the opposite direction, and it's not going to take him 39 minutes to turn round and come back. Two minutes later, the number has been replaced by a small dot. Two more minutes, it now says 2 minutes. Five minutes later, it's down to 1 minute, and five minutes after that the bus arrives.
For reasons I'll not disclose, I'm furious. This has been the case since long before I left work at 5pm. Suffice to say I need something to ease the tension. I need good people. Thankfully, there are some around, and I take a seat among them some ten minutes before kick-off. An entertaining first half ensues. City's Wayne Brown has a woeful first half hour, and caps his first-half 'performance' by having a wrestling match with Aaron McLean in the penalty box. The referee takes approximately a third of a second to point to the spot, and George Boyd steps up to put Peterborough in front.
[By all accounts, this penalty could easily have been given as a free kick the other way. Alas, it wasn't.]
At half time, we're, erm, treated to another tombola or some fucking thing. Some numbers are pulled out and some people I've never heard of win some shite. End.
The players come out for the second half - City have made two changes. It's no surprise to see Wayne Brown taken off for Aleksandr Tunchev, and Dany N'Guessan is removed in favour of Andy King. Two minutes into the second half, a Robbie Neilson shot is handballed on the line and the referee points to the same spot again. Matty Fryatt smashes the ball past the thus-far erratic Joe Lewis.
The rest of the second half produces some entertaining football but no further goals. The streak goes on - no home defeat in a little over a year now. That said, I would have much preferred a win tonight, for the following three reasons:
1. To keep the 100% home record this season.
2. Because Peterborough aren't really that good, despite what several publications will tell you about them being the best side since the Hungary team of 1953 with Nándor Hidegkuti and Ferenc Puskás, or Darren Ferguson being a football genius to rival Rinus Michels, Bill Shankly, Bob Paisley, Sir Matt Busby, Ernst Happel, Brian Clough, Jose Mourinho, Arrigo Sacchi, Miguel Munoz, Jock Stein and Johan Cruyff. And Claude Anelka.
3. Peterborough fans seem to think we're their rivals now they're in our league (albeit for one season). Even though we aren't, it's still nice to give the teams who are desperate to beat you a good shoeing.
Another half-hour walk home, another run-in with that old bastard with the dog (first time in nearly a year, but he still recognises me), and another night of quiet contemplation of the next game. Twelve points from seven games - I'm happy with that. I've almost forgotten what it was that made me so livid earlier on. Almost.
Roll on Saturday.
Final score: Leicester 1 Peterborough 1
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