The human body is an incredible thing

And breathe. Out. In. Out. In. Exhaaaaaaale.

After everything we’ve had to contend with of late, a week between games feels like some kind of crazy luxury. For the players themselves, some days to try and relax a bit, to recuperate, recharge the batteries and refocus on what lies ahead in the two final Premier League games will be very, very useful. They went through a lot against West Ham, 100+ minutes of nerve-shredding and intensely physical action.

I think it’s also something we could all benefit from as fans. It has felt all consuming at times, the voracious appetite we have for everything that surrounds the team and every game is understandable, but not necessarily always healthy. So perhaps it’s a chance to extricate ourselves from the pressure and just unwind a bit. My very own self is telling me that’s a good idea.

I asked around and got the following feedback:

My brain: “Thank f*ck, seriously. I’ve been working overtime of late and I’m absolutely knackered. You know that bit in various episodes of Star Trek where Scotty is desperately trying to keep the Starship Enterprise going as they race through the cosmos in pursuit of someone, or more typically trying to escape some alien foe, and he says ‘Ah cannae give her any more cap’n – she’s gonna blow!’.

“That’s me that is. So, if you don’t mind, I’m going to spend the next three or four days just staring at a blank wall and thinking of nothing at all.”

My heart: “I will say this, I’ve been tested. As a man of a certain age I’m glad that last year you went for a full cardiac check-up and everything came up hunky dory. These fluctuations in BPM are like a DJ set, starting slow and building up to a techno-adjacent crescendo before settling down again into a more chilled Sunday morning Ibiza groove.

“Yer Gilles Petersons, yer Pete Tongs and the like, they’d be very impressed with the mixing.”

My stomach: “Glurp. Have the Rennies on stand-by over there, right by the Immodium.”

My nervous system: “Hear that fizzing? That’s not gonna stop until these last two games are won. There are neurons and synapses and stuff doing all the shit they do in the old ‘nerve centre’ as we like to call it. People think it’s all automatic, but that doesn’t give this team the credit we deserve.

“We’re sort of like the Numbskulls, and Steve Nerve is in charge, making decisions, making you feel nervous. We’ve never been so busy!”

My voice: “You don’t have a cold but it’s time for the honey and lemon drinks to soothe those vocal cords. Any more talking and podcasting and shouting ‘OH NO WHAT MADNESS HAS THIS SEASON INFLICTED UPON ME NOW?!’ at your own TV like some kind of madman runs the risk of leaving you sounding like Sean Dyche.

My typing fingers: “We’ve never been so strong. If there were finger Olympics we’d win it all.”

My brain [redux]: “Ok, I’ve been staring at the wall for bit and while I appreciate why you considered this to be a good idea, I must push back. Now there are things going on in there. WTF? I don’t like this. You know I don’t like to be left alone with my own thoughts.

“Please, do something. Make me watch an excruciating game of football. Listen to a podcast. Or some music. Watch a movie. Play a video game, or she’s gonna blow!”

So, all in all, pretty comprehensive agreement that we could all do with a bit of rest. Except the brain, he’s got his own needs. I think I can just about manage what goes on up there, however.

In seriousness though, it has been kinda exhausting, but this what high stakes feel like. If there’s nothing to play for, it matters so much less, and this is what being in a highly competitive league feels like. I wonder what it’s like for a fan of someone like Bayern Munich, who more or less win the league every year. Do they even enjoy it anymore?

‘What’s rare is wonderful’, as the old saying goes. This is rare. Let’s hope it ends up wonderful.

Time for toast. Steve Nerve can bite my shiny metal ass. Arsecast Extra below if you haven’t had a chance to listen yet (you should, it’s fun).