It's not often you feel bitterly disappointed after watching your team win. Even rarer still, to face such disappointment on a night where in the ‘real world’, everything has progressed perfectly. In the end, this particular circumstance all boils down to a filthy, filthy addiction. No, it's not in any way related to alcohol, drugs, public masturbation or any other (some would say) questionable addictions. This is a far more serious problem.

Rewind to Saturday night. The Nix are in Auckland, up against Radelaide United at Eden Park, 7.30 kick off – you beauty. Football fans in Auckland all know how rare it is to see live games, so the pubs along New North Road are getting feverish… A kind of yellowy fever…. A kind of sticky, sweaty, desperate for more points kind of fever. 18,000 fans show up, ready for another good performance from a team in great touch. I was one of those 18,000, accompanied only by two mysterious assasins known only as Wilkotron and Moore.

Of course, the REAL action didn't start at kick-off - it began as soon as I was dragged off the train at Kingsland. A sea of yellow shirts sucked me from the carriage, towing me straight towards the Kingslander. The ruthless current caught me right off guard - I had no choice. The vicious tide pulling my bank card out of my wallet and ordering a jug of piss. I hauled myself and my brew-for-two to the nearest bench and gathered some breathe – unfortunately occupied by 3 Leeds United supporters who had suffered the same fate as I. I mention this because the awkward situation arose where, pre-train trip, I had no Phoenix shirt. Desperate times – what is here that has yellow on it????? Christ knows why I chose Dad's 2011/12 Leeds away shirt, OF COURSE it turned out to be a terrible decision. After what seemed an eternity of listening to absolute garbage (Orrriiiiite come on the migh-ey Leeds! Come on yeaaahh!), the wiley Wilkotron arrived – thank fuck for that. Go on, neck it back mate, the whole jug mate, and we're out of there.

This sums up the 3 Leeds pillocks at the bar...

Eden Park was in fine form, plenty of people but virtually no queues for the bar. We lugged our first round of plastic-bottled Speights (drink speights, lose your mates) down to our seats behind the corner flag & settled in to some anticipatory yarns.

It was then that Mr Moore arrived, one whom I had not previously met. I tried not to let the fact he was a Norwich supporter put me off, as English football fans are worth their weight in gold when watching footy.

The kick-off was met by a roar from the football-starved crowd, and Wellington obliged - the first 45 was glorious. The Phoenix dominated Adelaide, displaying the exact same fire & brimstone which has resurrected their season. Great chances for Brain Huysegems & Smiler Boyd went begging, but the Nix still managed 2 classy goals before the half was over. Hernandez smashed home a penalty after a sustained period of pressure, with possession being recycled 3 times in the build up. KKK Cunningham chased down a through-ball, but pulled the ‘greedy’ card, instead of laying it across to Boyd – he instead strode on to bottom-corner that shit, so it was all good in the hood.

What a legendary first half, great value for the crowd and great value for me - witness to the the hilarious anecdotal banter between Wilkotron and Moore.

I won’t lie, the 2nd half was less impressive. But wait, wasn’t it 2-0 at half time? TWO NIL? AT HALF TIME? Didn’t I place a $10 bet for a 2-0 win paying $15? Doesn’t that mean I was sitting on $150??? Yes. Yes it did mean that. I was in heaven. I couldn’t have cared less about the fact the Nix had gone off the boil – instead we were all wiping our brows every time a goal scoring chance reared its head! No more goals! Please! NO MORE GOALS! As the clock ticked closer towards 90 minutes, we discussed which pubs we should head to first, or maybe even splash out in some nightclubs? Jesus, the anticipation was almost unbearable. 70 minutes, still two nil. 80 minutes, still two nil. 85 MINUTES, STILL TWO NIL!! COME ON TWO NIL!!! I was suuuper relieved when Jezza Brocoli was subbed on - *surely* we won’t score now!! 90 MINUTES!! SHOW ME THE MONEY!!

The following series of events consisted of disbelief, ultimate disappointment, anger, hate and a lot of swearing (most likely in front of small children).

Somehow, shitty old Adelaide, who had been 3/10 at best, snuck in a fucken goal with 20 seconds of stoppage time remaining. 20 seconds.

I was angry, I’m STILL angry. I’m so angry I can’t even finish this shitty article.

In fact, forget everything I have just written. I only ask you to recognize two truths; One, the Phoenix are awesome. GG for the 2-1 win. And two, at the end of the day, gambling doesn’t pay.