So, the space-time continuum remains firmly intact. My blog has failed. My tweets? Worthless. As long as the world gyrates around the sun, the weight of my writing will have had no impact on the Earth’s rotation. But…there is hope.
As the collective footballing conscious surfs the Somalian-Pirate infested internet waters in search of streams, or the lower class with middle class pretensions pay for cable, I….I will be not watching the game. Yes. I am not watching the game. Instead, I am relying on my input of the game on my readers. Yes. YOU. Your tweets are all that I will see, feel, touch, and smell as Madrid duels with Barcelona.
I also will be at the beach, with my feet in the sand, the sun on my chest, and hopefully a delicious chocobanano in my mouth.
Please don’t lie to me. Please don’t hurt me. And be descriptive in your tweets!…..
Epilogue
On the plus side, I will be able to write a neat little match recap of the game soon after. I can create a nice little chronology of short sentences that detail the main events of the game. Such as “Gago coughed up possession in his own area, Xavi sprung Iniesta, who squared for Messi to score.” Or “Sergio Ramos jumped really high, headed a ball, and scored a goal. An own goal.”
But seriously, I’m by nature an optimist, and if Madrid wins I can yell to my hearts content, and if we lose then I can crawl into a closet and cry. If we were at the beach, well, the riptide and asphyxiation is so tempting this time of year….
Shady Selections
Well, the vote is final. 2 in favor of going home to watch the game, 1 abstain, and 1 against. This post has been an utter failure on many levels – also, I did not manager to get a luscious dark Irish-Mexican freckle-tan or obtain a delicious chocobanano.
To further complicate matters, Fernando Gago is starting for Madrid. While it speaks to Madrid’s depth that Lass can go down and we have a pretty skilled replacement, this is the same Gago that begged for a move in January. This is the same Gago that really was a poor sport in the Argentina-US friendly at Giants stadium not too long ago.
I hope Gago does well and exceeds expectations, but really, this game fills me with dread more than anything. It’s like getting out of jail on December 23rd after serving 10 years for a felony that you plead guilty to. The night of the 24th you aren’t smiles, you aren’t pleasant, you’re just bummed….bummed that you know your stocking will be full of coal and nothing more.
The Dilemma
So, everybody else wants to see the game life. The World’s future greatest footballer for Real Madrid? Junito has voted for traditional consumption….. And the missus? Well, she likes to see the long flowing locks of one Leo Messi. She also votes for live consumption. My daughter, Angie, is a disinterested neutral. If I can convince here to vote no, on the premise she can make sandcastles, I just may be able to pull off this stunt…..
The Up/Down Debate?
I will be updating this blog and my adventure to Padre Island with a new perspective – that of the vertical. Yes. Readers will no longer have to scroll down to read the latest chapter as my experiment unfolds. I have but one simple request – do not livetweet this or live tumble this. AND DO NOT liveblog this. Just tweet as if I were an unsuspecting fly on a wall….
Prologue
Why? Why am I electing to devoid myself of the pleasures of sight? Is this one of those weird Catholic things? No. I am doing this because of Fredo. No, not Frodo. No, not Bedorrarci. Fredo.
You see, Fredo and a certain Dunmore introduced me to the world of “teletext.” Granted, when my mom found out I was hanging out with such sly players, she got worried. She knew that the purely textual consumption of an event is addictive, like a WorldCupBlog liveblog while at work or an ESPN gamecast of a baseball game.
So here I am, at your textual mercy. Is Cristiano Ronaldo’s hair iguana-like in its glory? Did I put on enough suntan lotion or will my unique Irish-Mexican tan-freckle make an appearance? Only time will tell….