GOL?

by Azmi Sharom

I realise that there are some folks like Shannon Teoh, who prefer to watch football alone. I have a friend who will wear his team’s jersey, sit in the exact corner of his favourite chair and stay there, watching all alone until the match is over. Which just goes to show that Manchester United fans are not only arrogant and boastful, they are also rather weird [that's it, you're off - ed.].

Personally I can watch at home besaronged and alone quite happily but I do prefer some company, either amongst my long suffering Spurs brethren or with my other chums. It is for this reason that at 2.20 am the alarm clock crowed and I groggily made my way to Sid’s Place to meet up with two friends; one a colleague and the other a former student.

I enjoy the banter that normally comes with watching football with your mates. The gentle and not so gentle taunting … “err I forget, what position Liverpool end up in last season ah?”…  “hello, just because you get number four you think what?”… and so on.

And when things get dull in the match we can always talk cock. My friends and I were not quite at the level of Kubhaer machaness but we gave it our best shot… “hey Chief how come the girls you know look like that ah?”… “ya lah, Torres is prettier. Even with his short hair.”

Which brings me to two points. Firstly Torres should never have cut his Sunsilk quality hair. Obviously he has not paid attention in Sunday school. There’s a reason why Samson looked like Jimmy Page on steroids. This is why, when you have beautiful locks, you don’t pandai-pandai go and cut it off. You lose your mojo.

OK, so obviously the cock talking of last night is still within me. I know Torres is coming back to full fitness and that is why he looked so rusty. His first touch let him down and he did not terrorise the Chilean defence like he does to his opponents in domestic football.

Still, he set up a super first goal. The sight of the Chilean keeper way way way way off his line floundering like a flounder as David Villa lobbed the ball into an empty net was reminiscent of Roger Milla’s goal in 1990 when he dispossessed Higuita the Colombian’s eccentric goalie after the permed fellow decided to dribble up to the half way line. The old dude then ran towards an empty goal as the desperate Higuita chased after him, perm flying in the wind.

My second point is that if it was not for my pals, I would have fallen into a deep sleep in the last fifteen minutes when the Spanish, having obtained a two goal lead, decided to play monkey instead of football. They passed and passed and passed. People got up to pee and came back and they were still passing, passing, passing. All in the midfield area and all for no apparent reason other than to run down the clock and piss off the watching audience.

Sure, it was not as bad as the Portugal/Brazil game because at least we got three goals and the first three quarters of the game had action, skill, drama (Estrada should not have been sent off, poor chap) and nasty tackles. But even so, this last group stage game left me looking forward even more to the knock-out stages where all the teams must win.

Be that as it may, that last 15 minutes of the Chile/ Spain game made me happy that I took the effort to go out and see my pals and to take part in taking pointless photos and conversations that went along the lines of … “hey chief, really lah. Why all the girls you know all look like that one?”

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