Welcome to the Reds’ 20th Anniversary

Victor anxioticus, Vanquo potheticum (Win nervously, lose tragically)

Winning. Losing. Don't you love it? The possibilities are endless. The Reds, in one form or another, have been doing both - sometimes seemingly in the one game - for twenty years now. And as the contributors to this booklet show, we've been working our way through as many permutations of both sides of the coin/psyche/yin-yang/dark-lightside conceptualisation will allow in twelve rounds per season (excluding washout and walkovers - but they're another story altogether).

Conceived in a fit of class righteousness, consolidated in a tantrum of bourgeois individualism, and now perpetuated through that peculiar eclecticism that is the '90s (fellowship, fun, habit, beer, testosterone), twenty years is a pretty good effort for a club that has had no religious-footballing-banking-insurance stockbroking company support (Central Party funding was being allocated to international revolution the year we applied), a near-aspossible democratic electoral system, no club house that we could call our own, and practice facilities that are prone to lock-outs.

Within these pages are some recollections and reflections that bear the mark of reality. A few losses are recounted, a few embarrassing moments sketched, a few oddities included. Some statistics are provided too: these probably should precede all other text, as it is where we will all go to first ('Hmm, just one more not-out and I'll average almost 10...'). Best, though, to think of it all as a pre-season aide-memoir, or, for some, a kind of cricketing Viagra.


Welcome and enjoy your statistics.

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