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Life Lessons (07/07/2006 11:03)

A single bell tolls mounrfully over the North Gateway at Stadio el Banditos. It swings back and forth rythmically, ringing out it's sound acroos the bleak and dusty plains with each movement. It is set into motion by a small boy, pulling the rope as forcefully as he is able, pulling with all his heart, because it means something to him. He is calling forth the faithful to share their grief at the stadium, to share his grief, for he knows his team have fallen at the last once more. His tears creep down his cheeks and are carried off by the hot wind. His mother will later ask him if he has been crying, and he will tell her it was just some dust that got in his eyes. His mother knows him better than he thinks she does. It meant so much to him, to all of them, and the team really could have done it this time.

Oh god it's getting worse now. I'm not only anthropomorphising my players, but now that (no longer so) tiny part of me has devised, not only a locale in which my club is based, but to add to my growing and rather misplaced depression at failing to win the 4/49 title for the sixth time (although 4th when actually in real contention) a small bell ringing (and probably poverty stricken) little lad who the club employs to ring the bell when they lose! This is awful now. This could only be made worse if the little lad had a name.

Spinner suggested on my last post that he could recommend a psychologist for my goalkeeper (and in fact for me, although i do hope these were two different psychologists - whilst i could probably afford a better one {or in fact one at all - oh bracket in brackets, sorry!} through managerleague, i doubt very much if his qualification would be genuine, or his advice would be much above the level of Alan Agent's suggestions and advice on bids). I think this could come in handy - a combination of the "Hairdryer" button and trips to Paul Psychologist, or maybe his rival, the lovely Paola Psicólogo, would probably do the trick. Then again, my Keeper could end up having some torrid affair with his psychologist (either Paul or Paola - i cast no aspersions in my team) that could see him missing training sessions and what not.

Ahhhrrgg! Am getting dragged back in, need to stop this! (Need to establish a universal spelling of the word "ahhhrrgg" - am in favour of the double "g" but not sure on the "r" to "h" ratio - any ideas?). I need to focus on other things. It is important that i don't get sucked into this odd, probably south american country that part of me is now fleshing out. So, I must share from the real world, to purge myself, at least briefly, of the unfortunate decline that i am currently spiralling down.

Life Lessons I have learnt this week: -

1. When making cheese on toast after a night on the sauce, it is important that you do not slip, drop the toast but still have quick enough reactions to catch it before it hits the ground, yet because you are three sheets to the wind and have deadened you nerve endings, don't realise until the next morning that molten cheese really burns, leaving blisters on your finger tips.

2. If you sustain cheese related blistering, and you somehow pop them by accident, don't get orange juice in the wound. that really stings. (This is probably true of all wound-juice combinations, but these are my life lessons this week, so they are fairly specific.)

3. Do not finish reading Les Miserables on the bus as the tears that you pass off as dust in your eyes will make you look like a weirdo, and god knows there are already enough of them on London Buses as it is.

4. Tears are a useful way of ensuring that the seat next to yours on the bus remains free of any people who may try to fall asleep on you, or touch your bare leg (wearing shorts - i will categorically state now that i am NOT a bus weirdo) with their sweaty leg, or just generally talk to you.

5. (Aditionally, a rare moment from my actual private real world here, although not strictly a life lesson, will see if i can turn it into one...) - Saw a band at Koko in Camden last night (actually 3 bands, but went with the intention of seeing one in particular) called Gogol Bordello. If you have not heard of them, get on Youtube and look them up - especially the live clips - as they will blow your mind! Gypsy punks with, what appears to be, a huge cult following, the music is punk fused with east European folk and much other stuff. Knocks your sock off and they go on for ages! If you get a chance see them as (and this bit is the Life Lesson...) Gogol Bordello are ace! I have a t-shirt now to prove it.

A purge! It feels better! for a brief time there i didn't think about the inhabitants of Patalonia and their distress that their team will fail miserably in the playoffs (assuming they get 2 points from 2 games) again, a distress that is personified in the lonley, weeping yet strong figure of Teo, wearing his white, green and red replica shirt, the name of creative midfielder Blain elblazened on the reverse in Auld Gold lettering, doggedly ringing that mourning bell.

Shit - he's called Teo...

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