So, perhaps it’s just the Chelsea hate, but, but…I’m kinda falling in love with City. And it’s just not just the UK isles pronunciation of “Ci-tay.” No, it’s much more profound.
Yes, it’s an adolescent crush more so than “falling in love.” But is there a more meaningful kind of love? The three striker formation certainly stirs the blood and engages the eyes, but something deeper pulls at my heart strings. It is the players themselves. It is Carlos Tevez. It is Craig Bellamy. It is Shaun Wright Phillips. Could you envision a more motley crew in the world of sport?
This past summer, we painted City as the overspending-filthy new rich-machination. We cringed as they overpaid for players from top and mid level clubs. But can we fault the supporting cast for an aggressive director? The producer is a total d-bag, but the show on stage is breathtaking. And, at least in terms of my adolescent crush, the show backstage also induces an endorphin rush.
Are the City players’ greedy? Yes. Do they have checkered personal histories? An emphatic yes. Does their ASD personality combination make for an explosive cocktail? Of course. That’s why…that’s why I love them.
Chelsea bought bluechip recruits that quickly became or already were household names. The Blues bought big, tall, broad shouldered “world class players.” Michael Ballack. John Obi Mikel. Those two could probably lift my house by its foundations. But not City. Shaun Wright Phillips could live comfortably in my playhouse, sipping tea with the sister of the world’s once greatest-to-be footballer.
Carlos Tevez spends his time flying between the UK and Argentina to check on his illegitimate children. Granted, his concern does redeem him in some ways. But he’s still unpredictably and unreliable. Delightfully so. And Craig Bellamy? Well, I believe his picture shall someday grace the American Heritage Dictionary for a variety of unflattering words. I spent a part of my formative years in a trailer park, and Craig’s tattoos bring back fond and not-so-fond childhood memories. “Pa, get up…your late for you misdemeanor trial!”
The City players, to put it succinctly, are not the high school quarterback. They are not bland suburbanite overachievers. These are the leather clad boys whom mothers half-halfheartedly warn their daughters about. “He’s not marriage material.” In between the lines, daughters read their mom’s intuition – “You are young, don’t get your hopes up, but have fun.”
So yes, my passing fancy of City is just that – passing. I will probably lose interest in a week or month or so. I’m trying not to fall too in love. I’m tempering my expectations. At least I’m trying. But for now, they are my misfits of the month, my miscreants of the Spring, my…true love.
When Bellamy turned Mikel and finished far post in one swoop, my heart skipped a beat. When Tevez turned Carvahlo and then Terry, the hair on my arms stood on end. And when Tevez took his penalty kick with aplomb, I couldn’t help but batter my eyelids.
I’m trying not to fall too deeply in love.
I’m trying to temper expectations.
I’m….
So fast with your writing. Wish I was like that.
I’ll be pissd off if Citeh and Carlo help ManU regain their title, but it’s more for Chelski’s to lose.
Well Webbie, my affections for City have been bouncing around for a few weeks now, but this game really allowed me to come to terms with my fleeting and purely platonic mancrush.
Prepare to be pissed Webbie, prepare to be pissed. I recommend you get one of those soft balls to squeeze to relieve stress ASAP