The Little One…

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The other day I was on the phone with this chap and he confessed not having watched a single game for over a month. School had become tough and the tough had to get going. In all the years of knowing this guy, I had never ‘witnessed’ him miss a match while it was in his opportunity to do so. He ate, drank, slept football. “It’s because you guys didn’t make it to the league finals, ey?” I teased.

. . .

I don’t know what is happening to Wenger & Co. but I am of the opinion that after a certain level of skill, football becomes a game of chance. Where chance is the probabillity that a guy from the other team will slide an insult over ‘THE’ striker’s shoulder who will in turn bless his jaws. whistle!!! halt! red card!!! and history will have it recorded that the true ‘victim’ was ejected from the pitch.

. . .

As I hung up, I thought over the many conversations we had had with the little one. He had grown. He was no longer the sub who sat 90 minutes on the bench hoping that he would get into play during injury time. He was now coach; coaching his sister on the issues of life. I salute you Cesc! (by the way, you have my blessing to move over to Barca now that they are intent on ‘stealing’ Fabregas) I salute you!


* It’s been a year since I watched a soccer. Being Brazilian:-) I was completely shattered and for the first time ever I experienced the emotion of FANATISM. I now listen to the game over the radio #lesstress and must say I miss watching Jose… This guy is an enigma, he brings charisma, and can make you feel like a stigma (do you want another rap :))) but he definitely brings a certain je-ne-sais-quoi to the sport. I think he should ran for FIFA president next but that is a story for another day. For today, I wish my brother a truly happy birthday!


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