"Torn between two lovers"
"O, who can find the bent of woman's fancy?
I am a fool, my reason is lost in me,
I have no choice, and I have lied so lewdly
That women ought to beat me. (...)
What a mere child is fancy,
That having two fair gauds of equal sweetness,
Cannot distinguish, but must cry for both!"
- Two Noble Kinsmen, IV.ii.
Choosing between two of your teams is like choosing between men; you sit back and try to consider it rationally. If you're my grandmother, you look at their family, their income, their status in life; you think about how happy you'll be with one or the other, if your plans for life are similar, if you can tolerate one another's taste in music. And then you follow your gut.
If England is Ashley Wilkes (poncey, notalgic, and, let's face it, useless), and if, say, Argentina is Rhett Butler (smooth, willing to do anything to get ahead, bad hair) then the Aussies are Mr. Darcy (strong and silent, a bit uncomfortable in company) and the Italians Mr. Wickham (lying divers, but charming as all heck, and comfy wherever they go). What's a woman to do?
I really didn't know what would happen when I got to the pub today. The game started, and I still didn't know who I was cheering for. As happens too often with me, it came down to hair. There's an idiot on the Italian team who can't kick for seeing the ball; and so I cheered, to no avail, for the Aussies, and in the last minute, in that last, tragic minute, they lost on a sure-to-be controversial penalty kick. I mean, jeez. Finally Totti shows us what he can do... the one day I'm not cheering for him. Eejit.
I couldn't choose, and they both betrayed me; the Aussies just couldn't finish, despite the fact that Italy were one man down (but who could blame them?! Buffon is incredible!) and the Italians... well, that last call...
"Am I so round with you as you with me,
That like a football you do spurn me thus?
You spurn me hence, and he will spurn me hither:
If I last in this service, you must case me in leather."
- Comedy of Errors, II.i.
Ha! I've been wanting to use that one for ages!
In my fantasies, there's a team that is both handsome and fun, strong in body but strategic in mind, playing fair but taking risks, playing beautifully but only when time allows, all dressed up in red and white, with maple leafs displayed proudly on their shirts... sniff... never gonna happen, is it?
(*Thanks to Anna for help w/ the Kinsmen quote!*)
I am a fool, my reason is lost in me,
I have no choice, and I have lied so lewdly
That women ought to beat me. (...)
What a mere child is fancy,
That having two fair gauds of equal sweetness,
Cannot distinguish, but must cry for both!"
- Two Noble Kinsmen, IV.ii.
Choosing between two of your teams is like choosing between men; you sit back and try to consider it rationally. If you're my grandmother, you look at their family, their income, their status in life; you think about how happy you'll be with one or the other, if your plans for life are similar, if you can tolerate one another's taste in music. And then you follow your gut.
If England is Ashley Wilkes (poncey, notalgic, and, let's face it, useless), and if, say, Argentina is Rhett Butler (smooth, willing to do anything to get ahead, bad hair) then the Aussies are Mr. Darcy (strong and silent, a bit uncomfortable in company) and the Italians Mr. Wickham (lying divers, but charming as all heck, and comfy wherever they go). What's a woman to do?
I really didn't know what would happen when I got to the pub today. The game started, and I still didn't know who I was cheering for. As happens too often with me, it came down to hair. There's an idiot on the Italian team who can't kick for seeing the ball; and so I cheered, to no avail, for the Aussies, and in the last minute, in that last, tragic minute, they lost on a sure-to-be controversial penalty kick. I mean, jeez. Finally Totti shows us what he can do... the one day I'm not cheering for him. Eejit.
I couldn't choose, and they both betrayed me; the Aussies just couldn't finish, despite the fact that Italy were one man down (but who could blame them?! Buffon is incredible!) and the Italians... well, that last call...
"Am I so round with you as you with me,
That like a football you do spurn me thus?
You spurn me hence, and he will spurn me hither:
If I last in this service, you must case me in leather."
- Comedy of Errors, II.i.
Ha! I've been wanting to use that one for ages!
In my fantasies, there's a team that is both handsome and fun, strong in body but strategic in mind, playing fair but taking risks, playing beautifully but only when time allows, all dressed up in red and white, with maple leafs displayed proudly on their shirts... sniff... never gonna happen, is it?
(*Thanks to Anna for help w/ the Kinsmen quote!*)
posted by j | 11:03 AM
3 Comments:
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This is why I wonder what kind of fan you are. How can you not know for whom to cheer? How can you cheer for 4 teams (5 if the Irish were somehow playing)? If you're at all an English fan, btw, you Must, MUST, hate Irish, Aussie and French. I mean, I hereby revoke your license to root for the English, if you rooted for the despicable, barbaric Aussies. We sent them to prison, for chrissake! This is madness!
BTW, that was a stomach-punch game for the Aussies, which will haunt them for decades.
I mean, why don't you just make it easier on yourself and root for the coke-sniffing cheaters in Argentina?
God I wish Mexico had won that nail-biter. Argentinans are all drug-dealing criminals. There, I said it.
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