The day I was saved by Michael Carrick
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  I'll never forget the day my world collapsed. The seventh of May, 2006. Tucked in the away end at Upton Park. The final game of the season. The last time football left me this devastated was back in 1987. Like a movie directed by the Coen Brothers, it was all so ridiculously inane, from the lasagne to the claret and blue supporters chanting the name of our red rivals. We lost.The hope I had, personified by Michael Carrick, was left pale and sick. Puke on the turf and later that evening, more of it all over the bathroom floor as I also succumbed to a bout of food poisoning. Spurs and my life intertwined with cosmic comedy. It was a poignant moment. A breaking point. That season, home and away, was my last grand d...
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