Now I knew I was always a little ‘football crazy' a wee bit ‘out there' some of my fellow female friends might say ‘odd' but it was only as Simon Davies gathered the ball and gave Spurs possession that I had to start agreeing with the men in white coats diagnosis and dialled Claybury to ask them to take me away.
The reason for this I hear you cry? Well let me tell you. As Davies ran down the wing, headed for Seaman's net, I cocked my head to my left and spotted a piece of fluff that had been blown into my hair by the gale force winds. As I lifted my right hand to pick out the Highbury dirt, I suddenly stopped myself. What if that was lucky fluff?
I am insane.
2-1 up in a North London derby, and the reason we kept our lead and ran out eventual winners was because I had fluff in my hair.
Lock me up.
And no, it's not the first time I have acted like a crazy woman where Arsenal are involved, I remember during one particular game I was huddled forward due to the cold as we went 1-0 up. Scared to move back into an upright position, I sat for the remaining 80 minutes in a ball too scared to move in case our opponents scored. I was crippled for two days after.
I've always known I was a superstitious person when it came to Arsenal. I am perfectly aware that my lucky red knickers get donned before each game, and I wear the same clothes when possible (i.e. if I'm not in the press box where I am usually suited and booted) which consist of jeans, a black roll neck and my Arsenal shirt over the top. But when did I progress from believing in what clothes to wear to being afraid to move?
At half time as the Arsenal moved down the tunnel 1-0 up, I was making my way from the press box to the toilet, absolutely bursting, but as I was about to push the door open, I had second thoughts. What if I ‘wee'd all my luck out?'
Christ! I'm mental!
I sat in agony for the second half, legs crossed and eyes watering and who knows, most probably with fluff in my hair at that point. When did Arsenal transform me from a sane person into someone with a now weak bladder and a messed up barnet?
Now as I sit here, finally coming down from the euphoric high of beating Spurs and finally being able to relieve myself, I am starting to ponder if I should be allowed to walk the streets and be let lose among normal people. Should I even be allowed to use a keyboard to communicate with these right-minded individuals?
Still not sure? Here's another anecdote from the Bass files. After I returned from hospital with 30 stitches in my left arm, I decided that I was fit and well enough to attend Highbury, I don't remember who we were playing on that particular day or what the final score was, but what I do remember was that my arm made us win that day. My doctor had advised me that I should massage the area around my arm to help the healing process, and just as I remembered that I hadn't done my daily five minute rub and began to massage away, we scored. So every time Arsenal need a goal, I still rub my arm…the doctor gave me that advice three years ago. I'm still massaging. He would be proud!
Right so that's me looking like a bit of a mess, bursting for a wee, enduring backache, massaging my arm…did I mention almost blinded? Yes, that's right, for as the second half kicked off, the sun had made it's way from behind the clock end to hover over the West Stand where it shone right in my eyes in the opposite East Stand. As soon as the referee signalled the start of the second half, I pulled my sunglasses off the top of my head where they had been balancing and put them on. Suddenly Tottenham broke away… “Quick, put them back on your head” shouted the insane person who rests on my shoulder who drives me to follow his madness. So up they went, and I sat squinting throughout the entire second half.
So there we go, I am mad, Arsenal mad. But who cares when you win?
Jackie Bass