It has been a while since I wrote my last gardening and nature appreciation blog (read) but I have a good reason for that. Apart from another few hours of digging, there was simply nothing more to do. A new blog will come soon but in the meantime I have found something else to ramble about. In Russia, a bunch of millionaires are kicking a bunch of balls into a bunch of nets, and that's exciting.
In a tiny room in a tiny house in Brazil, a seven year old boy is watching his heroes play against Switzerland. He watches it on an old television, probably a model from the early eighties. In those days things were made to last. The television is standing on a plastic picnic table. There is nothing else in the room, just the boy, the table and his ancient television. He is happy because Brazil has scored. He won't be this happy until they score again.
I can't help but think about that little boy in Brazil. That boy has one goal in life, become an athlete and be rich. It reminds me of another story (read) of a boy that wanted to become an athlete, coincidentally a football player. He was born in absolute poverty. His lunch was bread and milk, every single day. One day he came home from school and saw his mother dilute the milk with tap water. They no longer could afford the milk. That day, the boy made a promise to his mother. He promised that everything was going to be fine. He started training. Later, his grandfather begged him to take care of his daughter, the boy's mother. Once again, the boy promised to fight. Only a few days later his grandfather passed away.
That boy scored two goals against Panama. Romelu Lukaku grew up in a prosperous country, lived in Antwerp, Liege, Brussels. He battled opponents, critics and keyboard warriors everywhere. After one of his goals, he shoved his face into a camera and said "pour toi, maman". After the match, he fell down on his knees and prayed, I like to think he simply talked to his grandfather.
Then, shortly after the opening ceremony, which for me was a bit too bombastic, weird and unnecessary, it was time for the first match of this world cup. Russia took on Saudi Arabia. The match became a humiliation for the Saudis with a 5-0 loss. Most people will probably remember Putin's reactions to the goals, a light version of Robbie's middle finger.
A nation that does care about Trump's shenanigans is Mexico. America, lead by a diseased orange, is being an absolute cunt as far as immigration is concerned. But Mexico itself isn't a perfect living area either. People there can choose between a life in absolute poverty or a life of being hated, simply depending on which side of the border they happen to be.
You know who Robbie's middle finger is for? It's for you, the so-called "haters". I used to hate Robbie. I used to think he was a prick the size of Ibrahimovic's ego. But now I like Robbie. Robbie says "I chased my dream and I made it, fuck you if you dislike me for that." And Robbie is right, don't take your failures out on someone who succeeds in life. Instead, have a wank and try something else.
Anyway, back to football. I really wonder why I have not seen a meme about steroids and performance enhancing drugs after Russia beat Saudi Arabia. Why is that? Has everyone forgotten the gargantuan Russian doping scandal in the Olympics? Am I now under electronic surveillance because I mention this? Is Putin now spying on me for being the only journalist who dares mention this stuff? I guess nobody thought of this because of the cringeworthy appearance by the Saudis. Is the Saudi team still alive or am I stirring in another dangerous pot here?
I just don't understand the group sex thing. I already puke when I think about showering with other men, something footballers do seem to enjoy, but having sex with somebody in a pool while your teammates are in the same pool, having sex with the same women? That feels very Skull & Bones to me. Those weren't orgies, those were secret society initiation rites. Whenever a guy debuts with the Belgian Red Devils, he has to sing a song in front of the group. I think in some countries, I'm not going to mention which ones because I don't want to die, teammates have to jerk off together as some sort of sick teambuilding thing. Groupwanking can turn people into presidents so I'm sure it can also cause a big win against another football team but still, yuck.
Since we are on the subject of sissies who like professional wrestling: Neymar would be the ultimate jobber. He knows how to sell a punch or a kick like no other WWE superstar can. He is more annoying than Enzo Amore, more laughable than Santino Marella and more injury prone than Rey Mysterio. Neymar would be a perfect addition to the WWE roster. Hell, even James Ellsworth could convincingly defeat Neymar in a WWE ring.
Don't be a Neymar.