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| Forum
Thread | GingeRs
at 22:23 31 Jul 2023
With it looking like the Ginger Pirlo signing tomorrow, it got me thinking… who’s our best ever Ginge -R?
I can only remember Ben Watson off the top of my head. He was crap for us. Am I missing someone obvious and good? |
| Forum
Thread | Leon Balogun, ladies and gents…
at 17:28 1 Apr 2023
Sits on his ass for most of the season. Comes back, gives away a penalty after 5 mins then wants to argue with the poor sods that pay their money and time to support this absolute shower.
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| Forum
Thread | QPR and Depression
at 12:59 2 Apr 2021
Spotify shuffled Sunshine on Leith on this morning. You know when you’ve heard a song hundreds of times before but then all of a sudden on the 113th play your ears prick up and you inexplicably start listening more attentively? Well that happened.
When I was in my late teens I suffered with crippling depression. I’d been dumped by my childhood sweetheart, I’d failed within our schooling system, I had no qualifications, no job, no hope, no belief. I’d been a semi-tidy golfer but ultimately failed at that too amongst feelings of letting my family down by coming up just short. I didn’t want to wake up in the morning and I had no idea which way to turn. I’d turned a loving, fortunate upbringing into nothing.
My heart was broken
My heart was broken
Sorrow. Sorrow.
Sorrow. Sorrow.
Born into a middle class upbringing and a working class family, I was too ignorant to go and seek professional help for this terrible, debilitating, invisible disease. I didn’t talk about it. I was ashamed of it and of myself. I didn’t understand it and there was next to no awareness about it. A week didn’t go by where I didn’t toy with a piece of rope or with packets of painkillers or with plastic bags in a locked room. Ultimately not brave enough, I just continued to exist.
If there was a bright spot in my life that even I could see; it was Saturday afternoons in Shepherds Bush. Back then they were few and far between for me as we lived 130 miles away. Maybe one such afternoon though was a turning point in my life. 25th January, 2003, QPR 1, Tranmere 2. The football chat on the radio, the debate about who should start, the debate around whether Steve Palmer is actually any good. Shepherds Bush Market, the sound of underground trains, the record shop opposite the green, the noise of the Uxbridge Road, a diverse community, the Baklava from the Lebanese shop. A day bonding with my Dad, without troubles, without sorrow, with hope, with adrenaline. We lost but it didn’t matter.
I went to every home game for the rest of that season. Sometimes with Dad. Sometimes by myself via a gruelling, eight pound, 15-hour-day, National Express journey. Sundays were 6 days away, Wednesdays were 3 days away. Fridays were the eve of relief. Every day had purpose.
I got to enjoy the playoff run and got to endure and experience the playoff final. I got to taste a sense of achievement. The next year I got a season ticket and went to most away games too. I made friends there, I made memories there, I was accepted there. This was my club, my thing. There wasn’t a second in my life that I didn’t have something to look forward to. I had a reason to get out of bed, a reason to go to work.
My heart was broken
My heart was broken
You saw it.
You claimed it.
You touched it.
You saved it.
6 years later I had a steady job, I’d met the woman who’d become my wife, I had a family, I had fun, I had holidays. I beat that disease. Not by myself - not by a long chalk. I beat it with the help of those around me but also with the help of a wonderful mix of people with one common bond. A community that’s scrappy, that understands each other, that knows it’s different, that knows it’s special. QPR gave me acceptance and QPR let me be myself.
Since then I’ve gone on to be moderately successful at work.
I’ve bought a house.
I saw and fell in love with New York City.
I got married in New York City in front of my closest friends and family.
I watched Dolphins playing in morning waves from the Newport Beach shore whilst eating egg white omelettes.
I drove the 10th Green at the Belfry with a 3 wood.
I had a daughter and experienced a love that I never knew existed.
I saw Bobby Zamora score that goal stood next to my Dad.
And that’s just to-date.
How do you repay a debt of gratitude like that? Like an absolute, innate family bond - you just can’t.
But this is why football is important. This is why football clubs are important.
And to me, this is why QPR is important.
My tears are drying
My tears are drying
Thank you.
Thank you.
Thank you.
Thank you. |
| | Padulas_Shampoo
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