Marching on together
Football is a man's life on grass. Mostly it's struggle -- you must put in unrelenting effort if you want success, if you slack, you will pay, finding yourself on your arse, wondering what might have been. Whenever you push forward, someone is dragging you back; sometimes, another man will hurt you, put you out of the game even, anything to stop you from taking what might be his. Nothing cushions you from defeat but money. If you have none, you must simply endure it. No one else will carry your burden.
Success is sweet. When you are riding high, it is a wonderful thing. (Whoever says that it is all the more sweet for having been down does not understand that when what you want is to win, you would be satisfied to win each and every one without needing any seasoning.
Of course, much of football is dreaming: the start of the season, the squad that could win things, the golden age that is always beginning and so quickly ends. The dreams sour, the wonder years (if they ever come) end in tears, and age and frustration overtake you.
When Kewell was skinning the best defenders in Europe, we allowed ourselves to dream of the trophies we would see our captains lift, of the glory of our team's being hailed the best. Well, when the dreams do fade, you do what you do, brush yourself down, get yourself back in the saddle and start dreaming again. Next season, Leeds return to the Premiership, bigger, better, ready for triumph once again.
posted by Dr Zen @ 3:36 pm
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