Losing on penalties in front of two thousand people on a balmy Wednesday night just hits different.
The ball hits the post, the keeper guesses right and just like that, months of invisible work, tactical discipline and for me, emotional investment, evaporate into the dark air.
Most people look at lower-league football and see a lack of quality, but they miss the pure leverage of the suffering.
The fact that the clubs play for the absolute sake of the game, with low quality cameras, no massive contracts, and no safety nets.
My gut is entirely empty right now, but this pain is the exact tax you pay for caring about something deeply enough to let it hurt you.
That's football.
Dane.
