Thursday, May 14, 1981
A fine day again, and I got in really late and played Jeremy at tennis (I lost). I didn’t speak hardly at all to Claire. Lee and I got quite mocked over this TM thing and we must appear really silly in other peoples’ eyes, but how come I’m supposed to be so sensible?
I got in from a barren Art session and watched the FA Cup Final replay, which turned out to be one of the most exciting games of football I’ve seen for ages. Almost from the word go it was hustle and activity all the time and at times tempers frayed; there were five bookings, but unlike Saturday Tottenham were more in command. They took the lead after 7 minutes through Ricky Villa, and then City equalised with a brilliant McKenzie volley from about 20 yards out. After this, things calmed down a little, before Spurs went 1-2 down to a penalty at the start of the second half. Spurs one-touch football began to make a mark and Crooks poked a shot in to equalise with twenty minutes to go. Six minutes later Villa put Spurs in front with the best goal I’ve seen for years, a solo effort, evading four defenders, twisting, turning and squeezing the ball past Corrigan. At this point the excitement was amazing, and my heart was really thudding. Mum sat dourly in the dining room reading. I rushed in after Villa's goal but she couldn’t care less.
More violence, crime, murder and assassinations in the headlines; the world seems racked with shootings, bombings and hatred, especially in N. Ireland, where about six shootings and/or bombings occurred today.