Sunday 11 July 2010


Oh Paul, you little crafty cephalopod mollusk! Who knew that an octopus could garner as much press and adulation as the World Cup winners themselves? (Well done Spain). With the end of the whole affair wrapped up and a deserving team celebrated, I am now of course officially in sports mourning. Come to think of it, I’m not sure who feels more unmoored today, Paul or I? I’m thinking he probably has it worse, as now, like Wilbur in 'Charlotte’s Web' he has to face the fact that people are fickle, attention will always fade, and his gifts will soon be forgotten – it’s a cruel world. [Sorry, I find it hard to be upbeat when I'm in mourning]. In fact, the chefs are probably sharpening the knives as we speak as he’s squealing internally, ‘wait, I can predict the US Open, Darts, Billiards, anything..for the love of Octopus God!’

God I love sushi. Sorry Paul.

Sorry I digress. Anyway back to my pain, cause this is also a selfish world. Now that the World Cup is over, and Wimbledon is done, I have to face the rude awakening that the summer is like a freight train going 300 mph towards…well, winter. I must admit that for awhile I feel a monstrous void without my continual coverage and channel hopping from one nail biting match to another (be it tennis or football). Even matches I didn’t care about provided good background distraction for a gal whose movement is limited. Okay, okay, I could go outside and do summery things, which I do, but I am certainly in no shape to whip out the bikini and pose by the pool! I do have regard for others you know. I liken the whole summer sporting experience (and subsequent void) to a lover that has been super attentive to me during our seasonal fling; one who has provided me with emotional highs and lows, incredible suspense, mystery, some damn good showings in the performance department (which is what it’s all about, no??) and then the pinnacle, a send off that is not to be forgotten. 

And then POOF, he disappears like Kaiser Sose, and now nada, I’m back to being a spinster (for metaphor’s sake of course. My partner, happily is still within residence). Okay, I still have the U.S Open, and Formula One and Hamilton is racing well, so all is not lost.

The problem is, when it comes to sports, I seem to only like the things that take place on a grand scale – Grand Slams, World Cup, Olympics etc. I like big events where the entire country or world takes part, where you can almost feel the global energy vibrating throughout the cosmos. I’m a passionate emotional gal, and sports on this level tick all the boxes in that regard, what can I say? I mean think of what occurred this year at the World Cup alone: we had tantrums (in serious supply), players striking and whining publicly about their big meanie managers (spoiled tossers!), coaches losing their rags, governments reprimanding teams due to poor performances, shame, outrage and humiliation!! I mean it’s better than a soap opera. And in tennis, there was of course the mighty upset of Roger Federer in the semis. You could hear Mirka’s (that’s his wife to yee not in the know) groan as she realized she would have to pack their fleet of Louis Vuittons and head back to Switzerland early. Oh the shame. 

What the hell am I going to do with my time now?...Oh, wait a minute, something tells me in ten days or so things may get a bit busier, just by a fraction. :-) Maybe Paul can make my life easier and pick a date for the arrival of this watermelon stretching me from the inside out! Go on Paul, help a girl out. I’ll swear off octopus nigiri forever, I promise!

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