I know it's been at least five minutes since I mentioned football and I suppose you think that I have been sulking.
I don't mind that Chelsea is awful. Really. It's fine. Delightful even. I take morbid satisfaction in watching them play 19th place Newcastle to a draw. It feels like a more authentic football experience, somehow. Yes I enjoyed it when Hazard would pirouette his way through defender after defender last season, but seeing him use his feet to slap at the ball like it's a picnic ham covered in wasps is fun too. And I hope that Diego Costa doesn't think that his inability to score in any way diminishes his value to the team: eliciting penalties through skullduggery is a Machiavellian skill that few top-tier players can stomach; so carry on, you wily trickster.
As Chelsea slipped further down the tables you might have worried that I was spending all of my time brooding over them; furrowing my brow as I watched match after match, trying to figure out what has gone so hideously wrong. True, I did that for several weeks but then I had a flash of blinding clarity and I got it all sorted. The team has only two problems: offense and defense. I feel much better now.
And, lest you think that I am succumbing to a state of pure masochism, saving myself for Chelsea and the Scottish National team; fear not. I am a football fille de joie. You know, what the French call a whore. I will get up at six in the morning to watch Chelsea, yeah, but I also record Arsenal and Manchester United. The Spurs. Swansea. Man City. And then I watch all the other Premier League games that seem to show up on our DVR at random. I watched every Euro qualifier that played on American TV and featured Ireland, Northern Ireland, England, Latvia, Scotland or Wales. I watch all four premier league teams in UEFA Champions plus some others and not only because there is always a strong possibility that a jingoistic drone will land on the field and a fight will break out - with rockets. I will watch the US play Mexico next week.
The family is starting to look at me funny and Steve has been asking some pointed questions about just how many competitions I am following and how many games a week I watch on average. Do I watch alone? Do I need to watch a match in the morning to get me going and then another at bedtime to help me sleep? Do I keep switching leagues because I think that will make it easier for me to cut down? Am I really drinking moonshine by myself in the basement like I've claimed or am I using the TV down there to secretly follow Celtic in the Europa League?
I am following Celtic.
PS Thank you thank you thank you re. Edward and I will be back to talk about that because you gave me some very good insights and I have more thoughts. Also, to give you a migraine update.
PPS Packers! But the Redskins are still, ever, always, so, sad.