Confession
I have a confession to make.
I was a football fanatic.
Once, in The Days Without Cable, my friends and I rented a tape between Argentina and West Germany – the 1990 World Cup Finals.
We viewed it twice in succession, and saw how Rudy Voeller got tripped in the penalty area, and how Maradona, pleaded with the ref to reconsider the penalty call.
Maradona had his hands on his back, his right, clasped on the wrist of his left. We debated on that.
He’s not supposed to wear that wristband that’s why he’s hiding it, a friend said. I said, heck, he just wanted to be the good guy, hands behind the back, begging the ref.
After taking a one goal lead, I remember, the Argentine keeper (no 12) dived in the right direction, but didn’t catch the shot (by Voeller I think), the West Germans decided on delaying tactics, passing the ball to the keeper and so on.
A year after that, Fifa disallowed the backpass.
I remember, that year, of wearing No 3, Rudy’s Jersey (coincidentally my girl friend then had her birthday on April 3) I made up this list of all famous players jersey, from 1 to 21.
It’s a list long forgotten, I mean, who remembers Juninho wearing number 7?
Folks stay up for the NBA play-offs, heck, I once stayed up so late just so I can watch the Ajax – Ac Milan Eufa finals. Diego Simone was one of my favorite players then, but there was this 17-year-old late Ajax substitute, who scored the winning goal in the 86th minute – a kid named Patrick Kluivert.
Getting here in Cebu for college, in the day’s Without the TV, football took the backseat. Being new in a place where everything had a price, a probinsyano like me, tried everything - price and all.
But I do remember, one fateful night in July, I watched, with disbelief, Zinedine Zidane’s two headers off a corner that brought mighty Brazil to its knees – and cost me a P500 wager.
Fast-forward four years, I was losing my voice, screaming “BRA-ZIL!” Trapped in a crowded area, where all the football fanatics seemed to have converged to catch the only live World Cup final shown in Cebu.
One side was screaming Deutschland! While we were screaming Brazil! After Brazil took a one-goal lead the signal broke and the screen went blank – the obscenities thrown and uttered – would have put a Quentin Tarantino movie to shame.
I more than made up for the P500 I lost.
I have a confession to make. I was a football fanatic. I am a football fanatic. Now that I have a job writing about football, I’m like the politician who got handed the key to the National Bank, or heck, I’m J Lo who just got handed the secrets of marriage success.
I have a confession to make.
I’m a football fanatic.
Brazil against England in the WC 2006 final, anyone?
I was a football fanatic.
Once, in The Days Without Cable, my friends and I rented a tape between Argentina and West Germany – the 1990 World Cup Finals.
We viewed it twice in succession, and saw how Rudy Voeller got tripped in the penalty area, and how Maradona, pleaded with the ref to reconsider the penalty call.
Maradona had his hands on his back, his right, clasped on the wrist of his left. We debated on that.
He’s not supposed to wear that wristband that’s why he’s hiding it, a friend said. I said, heck, he just wanted to be the good guy, hands behind the back, begging the ref.
After taking a one goal lead, I remember, the Argentine keeper (no 12) dived in the right direction, but didn’t catch the shot (by Voeller I think), the West Germans decided on delaying tactics, passing the ball to the keeper and so on.
A year after that, Fifa disallowed the backpass.
I remember, that year, of wearing No 3, Rudy’s Jersey (coincidentally my girl friend then had her birthday on April 3) I made up this list of all famous players jersey, from 1 to 21.
It’s a list long forgotten, I mean, who remembers Juninho wearing number 7?
Folks stay up for the NBA play-offs, heck, I once stayed up so late just so I can watch the Ajax – Ac Milan Eufa finals. Diego Simone was one of my favorite players then, but there was this 17-year-old late Ajax substitute, who scored the winning goal in the 86th minute – a kid named Patrick Kluivert.
Getting here in Cebu for college, in the day’s Without the TV, football took the backseat. Being new in a place where everything had a price, a probinsyano like me, tried everything - price and all.
But I do remember, one fateful night in July, I watched, with disbelief, Zinedine Zidane’s two headers off a corner that brought mighty Brazil to its knees – and cost me a P500 wager.
Fast-forward four years, I was losing my voice, screaming “BRA-ZIL!” Trapped in a crowded area, where all the football fanatics seemed to have converged to catch the only live World Cup final shown in Cebu.
One side was screaming Deutschland! While we were screaming Brazil! After Brazil took a one-goal lead the signal broke and the screen went blank – the obscenities thrown and uttered – would have put a Quentin Tarantino movie to shame.
I more than made up for the P500 I lost.
I have a confession to make. I was a football fanatic. I am a football fanatic. Now that I have a job writing about football, I’m like the politician who got handed the key to the National Bank, or heck, I’m J Lo who just got handed the secrets of marriage success.
I have a confession to make.
I’m a football fanatic.
Brazil against England in the WC 2006 final, anyone?
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