Damned superstitions

Thankfully, the English football season has ended. My relief has nothing (well, a little bit) to do with my team's lacklustre performances, on-field boxing matches, monumental mistakes and continued lack of silverware, but my matchday routine. Superstition is not restricted to voodoo, witches and Stevie Wonder, but football supporters have some serious neuroses when kick off approaches.

The arrival of a new shirt, scarf or pair of slippers requires careful testing because the item of apparel could be the reason your team let in a last-minute goal at home. Don't smirk! A vintage Newcastle shirt arrived and the first game I watched wearing it we beat Everton 6-2, although it may have something to do with either Alan Shearer or the seat I'd chosen on the sofa.

The choice of chair is key to a result but it is usually in conjunction with a certain replica shirt or drinking a certain brand of lager. For example, opening a Newcastle Brown Ale is usually a sign that the game is not going as hoped and superstitious reinforcement are demanded. Note though - it should be drunk from a small glass, not the bottle, because the latter can be unlucky, and drinking it with a Mexican meal is lucky.

Alcohol is dangerous, since a friend insists that if he has a hangover then Newcastle lose and another argues the opposite - if they are both at the bar we usually draw. Superstitions are tiresome and involve considerable effort, especially when a change of shirt is required at half time or you must not visit the toilet due to the fear of another Michael Owen hat trick.

Those around you play a role in the proceedings, for example when my brother watches a game with my Dad back home Newcastle never lose, if they do it is because I am there too or he forgot to get a bottle of Newcastle Brown Ale…in a small glass and cold. I am sure my Mum has some influence but this is becoming too exhausting to think clearly.

In the end you decide that all this superstition is not worth the hassle and don't do anything…then your team lose 3-0. The panic sets in and you ask, "Was it my fault?" One superstition that I tried to convince my wife was that when we make love on the day of the game we always win, but she wasn't interested in helping anybody score.