The Audacity of Hopelessness
…Or, reflections after Wednesday’s Champions League Final.
gclark and I watched the game delayed, after a day of much anticipation and considerable anxiety on my part. The only inklings I had about the game seemed to indicate that we were going to have to endure penalty kicks, so I was considerably worked up by game time. I sure didn’t have a good feeling about it and I guess it’s nothing but masochism that makes me watch with our resident Chelsea-hater. You can bet he was warned, though. If at any point the Gooner felt the need to be smug, he was cautioned to ponder how his team went Arse up and didn’t even manage to stay in contention for ANYTHING after such a fabulous start to the season. Yeah, I talked entirely too much smack; even threatened bodily harm if Chelsea lost, the likes of which could be compared to a Scotsman without his Big Screen. I feel bad about it, and much like the Scots…I blame the bourbon.
My hopelessness was not unfounded. What the hell was that with Drogba’s (deserved) red card? What was he thinking bitch-slappin’ folks like there was a four-day vacation riding on it? I’ve defended and sympathized with Drogba time and time again, mostly because he may be the only person on the planet with a bigger crush on Jose than me…but damn, I was embarrassed for him. What a way to go out.
Poor, poor John Terry. I don’t care who you are or what you think about him, you couldn’t help but feel simply awful about him missing the game winning PK because he SLIPPED! That is stuff of which nightmares are made. I hope he was able to drink himself into oblivion last night and put it behind him this morning.
There were a few highlights from the game. I was absolutely thrilled that the first half was commentated by Clarence Seedorf. How awesome is that? I’ll tell ya, the kind of awesomeness that could only be matched by Cristiano Ronaldo making a complete ass of himself during his penalty kick…and not in a sympathetic way like JT, but in a way that he fully deserved. And I can’t help but be pleased for and proud of Scholes and Giggs, even if all that was somewhat under my radar in the midst of my own angst.
I gotta say…the worst part of last night’s game was the nagging thought in the back of my mind that I was witnessing the end of an era, the end of the only Chelsea I have ever known. There is a damn good chance that many on the team will spend Thursday getting their shit together to go elsewhere next season. We can only hope they will all soon be reunited again with Jose in that big football league in the sky, Serie A. My preference? AC Milan.
Oh, and happy belated birthday, KFB. Hope you had a good one, in spite of it all. I feel your pain.
