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Okay, football. I can talk about football. I used to do nothing but.
Dear FC Barcelona,
I'm not exactly proud of you at the moment.
Well, to be fair, expecting you- or Real Madrid, for that matter- to conduct yourselves in such a way as to not induce wincing and repeated use of statements like Look, most of the time they're not like that, honest would be a bit much, especially given the whole four-clasicos-in-eighteen-days thing, but really. I was one of those who actually looked forward to watching it as it happened, cheating accusations and media insanity and all. (The word for people like me begins with the letter m, only I'm not sure if it's martyr or masochist; alternatively, it could be two words: fandom newbie.) The drama was expected. The diving was expected, the hideous tackling was expected, and cards raining down from the heavens was just a matter of time. Not even the rapture coming early would have prevented Mourinho from milking the rivalry's soap-opera bitterness for what it was worth (that is: a really good chunk of Spain's sports media industry). The racism accusation was handled awfully, which was expected of UEFA, and I don't suppose I ought to have counted on you to keep Sergio Busquets from playing just for the sake of- of form or respect or trying to make a point that racism is unacceptable or whatever- because you're something people believe in, but not like that. You're something people believe in because you win, the change doesn't come from you, and if racism is a problem, it is not a problem when dealing with it may mean not getting to the Champions League final, or even not having a very valuable player in your Champions League final starting eleven. I know that. I rather wish I hadn't known it for sure, and I expected better from Pep than to let Busquests play in the second leg, I guess, but I know that. That doesn't change the fact that I feel I've ingested enough Spanish football for two lifetimes.
Spanish football indigestion or no, I have an alarm set for 3:15 in the morning, tomorrow morning, because you know what? Sometimes your football club sucks. Not sucks as in playing- of course sometimes your football club sucks as in playing, it's probably part of the specification, that's not what I'm talking about. Sometimes your football club sucks as in how they treat people. It's very likely that most of the time your football club sucks as in how they treat people, you just don't know it. Sometimes your players, management, administration do things that make you want to burn something, preferably the person responsible. Sometimes you feel like you ought to give up allegiances, if you want to be able to continue thinking of yourself as a half-decent person. Sometimes people suck, okay, and sometimes football clubs suck because football clubs are basically lots and lots of people.
This is not a justification for all the shit you pulled during those eighteen days. There is no justification in the world for how you handled the whole racism thing, whether Busquets actually called Marcelo a monkey or not, because it's not just about what happened, it's about sending a message. The rest can be dealt with, more or less, but that's not my- well, it is, but it's only my problem because you are my problem. This is not me saying, sometimes football clubs suck, so you can suck too, it's okay, everyone does it. Everyone does it, that doesn't make it right. Just because a lot of the time you're fantastic doesn't make it right, it just means that you not being fantastic with regards to things aside from playing football sucks all the more.
This is not a justification. This is maybe an apology to the world at large, or at any rate an indication that I know that a lot of what people associated with you guys did was unacceptable and that I am sorry it happened, for what that's worth.
You guys. Sometimes you suck, and if ever the world has to sit through four clasicos in eighteen days again, or even two in three hundred and sixty-five, I hope you suck less. I hope you learn to not do shit, and to own up to your shit if ever, and to be fantastic all around, and to treat people like people. Right now it's sleeping time, because I have to get up in four hours for a Champions League final. Visca Barca. Do yourselves justice. More than a club, right?
I'm not exactly proud of you at the moment.
Well, to be fair, expecting you- or Real Madrid, for that matter- to conduct yourselves in such a way as to not induce wincing and repeated use of statements like Look, most of the time they're not like that, honest would be a bit much, especially given the whole four-clasicos-in-eighteen-days thing, but really. I was one of those who actually looked forward to watching it as it happened, cheating accusations and media insanity and all. (The word for people like me begins with the letter m, only I'm not sure if it's martyr or masochist; alternatively, it could be two words: fandom newbie.) The drama was expected. The diving was expected, the hideous tackling was expected, and cards raining down from the heavens was just a matter of time. Not even the rapture coming early would have prevented Mourinho from milking the rivalry's soap-opera bitterness for what it was worth (that is: a really good chunk of Spain's sports media industry). The racism accusation was handled awfully, which was expected of UEFA, and I don't suppose I ought to have counted on you to keep Sergio Busquets from playing just for the sake of- of form or respect or trying to make a point that racism is unacceptable or whatever- because you're something people believe in, but not like that. You're something people believe in because you win, the change doesn't come from you, and if racism is a problem, it is not a problem when dealing with it may mean not getting to the Champions League final, or even not having a very valuable player in your Champions League final starting eleven. I know that. I rather wish I hadn't known it for sure, and I expected better from Pep than to let Busquests play in the second leg, I guess, but I know that. That doesn't change the fact that I feel I've ingested enough Spanish football for two lifetimes.
Spanish football indigestion or no, I have an alarm set for 3:15 in the morning, tomorrow morning, because you know what? Sometimes your football club sucks. Not sucks as in playing- of course sometimes your football club sucks as in playing, it's probably part of the specification, that's not what I'm talking about. Sometimes your football club sucks as in how they treat people. It's very likely that most of the time your football club sucks as in how they treat people, you just don't know it. Sometimes your players, management, administration do things that make you want to burn something, preferably the person responsible. Sometimes you feel like you ought to give up allegiances, if you want to be able to continue thinking of yourself as a half-decent person. Sometimes people suck, okay, and sometimes football clubs suck because football clubs are basically lots and lots of people.
This is not a justification for all the shit you pulled during those eighteen days. There is no justification in the world for how you handled the whole racism thing, whether Busquets actually called Marcelo a monkey or not, because it's not just about what happened, it's about sending a message. The rest can be dealt with, more or less, but that's not my- well, it is, but it's only my problem because you are my problem. This is not me saying, sometimes football clubs suck, so you can suck too, it's okay, everyone does it. Everyone does it, that doesn't make it right. Just because a lot of the time you're fantastic doesn't make it right, it just means that you not being fantastic with regards to things aside from playing football sucks all the more.
This is not a justification. This is maybe an apology to the world at large, or at any rate an indication that I know that a lot of what people associated with you guys did was unacceptable and that I am sorry it happened, for what that's worth.
You guys. Sometimes you suck, and if ever the world has to sit through four clasicos in eighteen days again, or even two in three hundred and sixty-five, I hope you suck less. I hope you learn to not do shit, and to own up to your shit if ever, and to be fantastic all around, and to treat people like people. Right now it's sleeping time, because I have to get up in four hours for a Champions League final. Visca Barca. Do yourselves justice. More than a club, right?