Mark Twain once wrote “When ill luck begins, it does not come in sprinkles but in showers”, the point being, I suppose, that showers however nasty are always fairly short.
Generally I’m more inclined to the idea that you make your own luck, but after Formartine had hit the woodwork unrewarded five times in two games I was beginning to suspect that fate did have a hand in proceedings after all and if they did make their luck what had they done to deserve that fate?
Against Locos, despite being down to 9 v 11 we ran them ragged for the last twenty minutes but couldn’t get the ball in the net. Even Locos’ Scott Buchan was moved to remark on Formartine’s lack of luck.
Likewise, against Wick at a goal apiece and all over them, it looked ominously like the same was going to happen. This agony of doubt lasted a full thirty minutes from the 47th minute when Anderson conjured up the equaliser until Graeme Roger finally put us ahead in the 78th. The feeling of relief at that point was palpable. I suppose that any period of nasty rainfall of a similar duration would come within the definition of a shower but you may rest assured: it was exceedingly unpleasant while it lasted. “a richt nesty shoor”
Can we now hope that the spell of bad luck that seems to have dogged the North Lodge squad on and off – with more of the former than the latter – this season is now at an end?
Injuries to McVitie and Bagshaw are on the mend, the effort put in against Wick, particularly in the second half may well have been what turned the fates our way again. Did our luck just change or did we make it?