I unearthed this piece amidst the clutter in my office PC’s personal folder and found this amusing so I thought I’d share this:
March 26, 2010. Friday.
The day started out with so much promise.
I began by getting the “real” work out of the way, and then settled in front of my PC to do my usual trawl of football blogs and sites. Before I can stop myself, I ended up browsing a section of a Michael Owen website which contained photographs from his stint at Real Madrid CF, circa 2004-2005. The experience was like being a kid left alone at a massive chocolate and candy store—I started out clicking and saving all the photos I liked, giddy and almost euphoric as a teenage girl being kissed for the first time, but just as I slowed down and began to really look at the photos, a sense of deep nostalgia and inexplicable sadness began to wash over me.
Now, just in case you need any reminding, I was not a huge fan of Michael Owen’s move from Liverpool to Real Madrid back then (Understatement of the decade). In fact, that even sparked my self-imposed abstinence (or should I say, semi-abstinence) from Spanish football as my heart, mind and body really could not stand the thought, let alone the sight of him in that famous all-white kit. Back then, I was cursing everyone from the black suits of Real Madrid and Liverpool, Rafa Benitez, David Beckham (I had a feeling his influence swayed MO’s decision), Michael Owen himself and the whole universe for conspiring against me. I even wished that RM wouldn’t win the La Liga (which they didn’t anyway) but of course I still wished that MO will score loads of goals (which he did, anyway).
Going back to my original train of thought, I suppose what I’m trying to say is that I’m a Masochist when it comes to Football—always have been and always will be. Seeing the smiling face of MO from all those photos made me think of all that should have been. It also made me realize how deep in denial I was back then of his stint with RM. For a season and some odd months, he was playing alongside the likes of Zinedine Zidane, Luis Figo, Ronaldo, Roberto Carlos, Raul, Fernando Morientes, Michel Salgado, Guti, and of course David Beckham. Heck, he was even a teammate of Iker Casillas, for god’s sake (Seeing team photos of those two together made my insides melt and scream at the same time, then again I digress)! Sure, he didn’t get to start that many games but he had the best goals-to-playing time ratio out of everyone in the La Liga for that season. He was a Galactico, playing at the biggest stage in the whole wide world, and even though I ignored it for the longest time, that’s where he really should have been.
They say there’s no use in crying over spilled milk, and not that I feel anywhere close to crying when I think of how much I missed during that semi-abstinence from La Liga football, but now I realized that I will always be one of those football fans who looks back at things and just wonder. I can’t help it, especially with MO, he just has that effect on me.
Meanwhile, excuse me while I go comfort myself by staring at and most probably over-analyzing tons of “new” MO-RM photos for my collection.
I did tell you I was a Masochist, didn’t I?