Monday, November 13, 2006
Red rage
Had a bit of a moment playing football yesterday. Picture Dan improving on the team's usual black and red colour scheme by sporting a very nice Chairman Mao t-shirt in said hues.
Picture new Japanese player grabbing a handful of said t-shirt whilst trying to get the ball past Dan.
In fairness to the lad, he did get the ball past me rather nicely. He didn't get very far, however; shirt pulling has always been one of my pet hates and I wasn't in the mood for letting some Japanese urchin in a faux Brazil top take liberties with the glorious leader (or with Mao, for that matter.)
Turning faster than I have in many a moon, I took a huge bounding stride after the shirt-tugging fashion victim, before wiping him out with a full-blooded slide which resulted in him crashing down on the nasty "dry play" rubbish we have to play on.
The would-be Rivaldo took it in good spirit, I'll admit; getting to his feet, he complimented me with the words "nice fight" (used as we'd use "good hussle.") I still allowed myself some satisfaction at how he shook and bled.
This incident also went some way towards compensating me for getting knocked over earlier and landing on a manhole cover which had lain concealed beneath the layer of sandy grit. I'm beginning to wonder what it would be like to live in a developed country again.
Picture new Japanese player grabbing a handful of said t-shirt whilst trying to get the ball past Dan.
In fairness to the lad, he did get the ball past me rather nicely. He didn't get very far, however; shirt pulling has always been one of my pet hates and I wasn't in the mood for letting some Japanese urchin in a faux Brazil top take liberties with the glorious leader (or with Mao, for that matter.)
Turning faster than I have in many a moon, I took a huge bounding stride after the shirt-tugging fashion victim, before wiping him out with a full-blooded slide which resulted in him crashing down on the nasty "dry play" rubbish we have to play on.
The would-be Rivaldo took it in good spirit, I'll admit; getting to his feet, he complimented me with the words "nice fight" (used as we'd use "good hussle.") I still allowed myself some satisfaction at how he shook and bled.
This incident also went some way towards compensating me for getting knocked over earlier and landing on a manhole cover which had lain concealed beneath the layer of sandy grit. I'm beginning to wonder what it would be like to live in a developed country again.
