October 15, 2009

Have you ever had that feeling?

Where it's like someone is just following you around, deleting all of your linked match highlight videos?

Stop, Hammer time. A serious note for once.

National teams. Why do we have them? Things like the World Cup. I would like to ask, what purpose do they serve? Other than the seemingly obvious of putting them up on a shelf, next to your dusty bookends and picture frames, and thinking they provide a purpose like a piggybank for storing your dreams. Watching and supporting a national team is self-emaciating, and yet self-serving. It is the drug you abuse, knowing it can lift you up to the highest highs, and in 90 minutes bring you down by your bloody and banged up knees. And just like any other red blooded human being, supporting a country is a sub-conscious twitch that has to be released. Do you know what tourette's guy looks like suppressed?

And that's him unleashed. Anyways, I am just trying to say, from now until next summer, I'm going to be a bottled up explosion, like a shaken up and kicked around cheap beer waiting for an innocent idiot to open me up. When your country gets eliminated by Slovakia or Ghana in group play, it'll happen to you too. Frothing, foaming, crying all over the place. Hate me as much as you hate yourself, the disappointment makes it so much sweeter. Only, we'll just do it again and again every four years.

Oh fuck it, we qualified for South Africa!

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