Pigeons are tormenting me, in ever weirder ways. Last year I wrote about how much I hated them when they got into a drainage channel on my roof. They’ve been looking at me funny ever since. OK, I might be imagining that, but what I didn’t imagine was the incident I also wrote about involving a peregrine falcon dropping half a dead pigeon on the pitch in the middle of a match at West Brom. I apologise for getting into the same subject area for a third time, but needs must. Things have taken an even darker turn.
That “pigeon stops play” incident came in our match against Derby County in September. Until that moment we’d been all over Derby, but thereafter we went to pot, and lost 1-0. The dropping of the falcon’s dinner felt to me like a portent of doom, and so it turned out. What I didn’t know then was that this was only the start of it.
