OK, so Debs and João are watching 'It's A Wonderful Life' and I am getting nicely pickled and I think tomorrow might be my first proper day off since last Christmas Day. So, an anecdote!

Some of you might remember that my daughter was born the day after Arsenal won the FA Cup and since Debs was induced, well, I watched the Cup Final unfold in a hospital in Woolwich... https://twitter.com/Stillberto/status/1289631623831404544?s=20

But I haven't told the full story of that weekend, so here goes. Debs started induction on the Thursday and induction can take anywhere between 24 and 96 hours, so I knew there was a chance the birth would overlap with the final but my mind was kinda elsewhere...

So I didn't think about it that much until the Friday evening, when it was clear another round of induction would be required. I quickly went from wishing the induction would work asap to, in the back of my mind, thinking, "hmmm, would be ok if this held off till Sunday"

Anyway, I went home on the Friday night (covid meant my visiting hours were restricted) and went to bed, rang Debs in the morning and she told me she was having contractions. "Fuck!" I thought, "It's going to happen today!"

I very quickly made peace with the idea that I probably wouldn't get to see the game and I was fine with that. I wasn't going to be in the stadium anyway and, let's face it, cup finals are miserable experiences save for the final whistle when you win. I was ok with missing it.

But as I took a cab back to the hospital that Saturday lunchtime, my dominant thought was, "Oh shit, my daughter CANNOT be born the day we lose a Cup Final to Chelsea!" There are very few things that can put a dampener on such an occasion, but....

And pretty soon I felt terrible for thinking this, I know it shouldn't have mattered one jot but it did and I felt like a terrible person for worrying about it (I probably am a terrible person for worrying about it).

I reflected on all the fucking things that had to happen to arrive at this scenario. We found out Debs was pregnant in November and we were delighted with the July due date precisely because it made this kind of scenario impossible.

But of course, THE CUP FINAL WAS PUSHED BACK TWO AND A HALF MONTHS BECAUSE OF A GLOBAL PANDEMIC AND THEN MY DAUGHTER WAS TEN DAYS OVERDUE! I sat in the cab thinking, "WHY?" I am an anxious person by nature and this is already an anxious enough event, I didn't need or want this.

As much as I tried to talk myself around, it's safe to say this is the highest stakes Arsenal game ever. I didn't even care about celebrating victory, I just wanted the absence of defeat, that was all I was interested in. That, or Eva holding out until the next day at least.

Obviously I expressed none of this because, and I can't emphasise this enough, as a dad in a birthing scenario, your feelings do not matter one jot. You are like an air steward / stewardess, if the wing of the plane is on fire, you shut up, smile and keep pouring drinks.

Anyway, I got to the hospital and it was soon apparent that we would be able to watch the game. (For those that don't know, my wife is a big Arsenal fan, it's how we met and she was very keen to see the game too- she is not a background character in all of this by any means!)

And I kind of resented the fact that I would see it because it meant 90, possibly 120, minutes of anxiety torture. I kept telling myself that a successful birth was the only important thing but I was so....fucking.....tense.

We all know how it turned out and the game went fine and I was so relieved. The final whistle went and I wasn't ecstatic that Arsenal had won I was just so happy that we didn't lose. An hour or so after the final whistle, Debs and I chatted and she said....

"I didn't want to say anything, but it would've been a bit shit for our child to be born the day Arsenal lose a Cup Final to Chelsea, I was nervous about it" and I should've said, "It didn't cross my mind to be honest," but......

I didn't and I was pathetically grateful to be married to this woman and I just said, "I have been worrying about this all day and I am so glad you said that." Anyway, Eva was born the next evening and it all went smoothly. But, and here's the kicker....

When I walked out of White Hart Lane the day Arsenal won the league, I had a private moment & said to myself, "every time Arsenal lose a North London derby for the rest of your life, bring yourself back here, think of this day, this moment and that will be your coping mechanism."

In the cab on the way to the hospital I asked myself, "Would I accept relegation for Arsenal next season if it meant winning today?" and in my desperation and anxiety I decided, "Yes! Fuck it!" (I didn't think it was actually a possibility!)

I am not a superstitious person to say the least but y'all can blame me if the unthinkable happens. Peace, feliz natal, merry xmas and happy holidays

Anyway, no regrets!