Fly Me To The Moon column: A win at last - but watching Middlesbrough's victory over Huddersfield from home was agonising

What a relief when that final whistle went on Tuesday night. At long, long last we had taken all 3 points again at the Riverside, it seemed like half a lifetime since our last win at home or anywhere for that matter. That win-less run had weighed heavily on us. Phew! Yet didn't we have to suffer for it?

Lockdown football has been such a difficult experience. Being someone that was previously a home and away season ticket holder I have found very few positives from watching at home. OK you can sit in the warmth and at half-time there is no long queue standing between you and the biscuit tin and the kettle. But no matter how much the commentators try and make you feel a part of things you are not truly there.

OK I am an extreme example, I was so traumatised by listening live on the radio to Boro being taken apart 4-0 in the League Cup semi final at Man City in 1975 that I could never face another Boro commentary until... lockdown. There is no choice now.

At least with commentary you are informed. You can understand why decisions are given that can remain mysteries when at the far end of the pitch. When a penalty is given or a controversial decision there is a flurry of mobile phone action at stadiums as people are called up watching or listening at home. Suddenly those homebound fans are an information lifeline and they are the hidden but definitive voice that fuels much of the conversation in the concourse at half-time.

In the Boro vs Huddersfield match the tables were turned. The commentator and co-commentator for Sky’s midweek coverage did not seem to have the faintest idea what was going on either for most decisions.

This disconnect was taken to an extreme when the Sky commentary team didn't reveal how much time was added on at the end of the game. There were no pictures of the fourth official holding up his electronic board and no tell tale count down on the screen. The 90 minute clock merely continued to tick.. tick.. tick. Each tick a tick of agony. How long is left?

I wondered about tuning in BBC Radio Tees but I knew it was out of sync. How far behind or in front would it be? If I fired up my computer and the website I would have to break away from the tv pictures that had me totally gripped and kicking away every ball from Bettinelli's goal. But how long, how long was left?

Quickly, the ball is out of play. Before the throw in there is just enough time to send a message out to a WhatsApp group. Someone out there must know how much more agony is left to be endured. Down to ten men, after a terrible red card decision. Backs to the wall. The Terriers were getting closer and closer to breaching our defences.

“4 minutes” flashed up a reply. Look at the clock 93.48 – Oh great, nearly there.

Bzzz. Another message from Matthew “I think.” Oh no.. torture.

And they call this the Information Age.

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