Every Little Thing He Does is Magic: Comments from A Football Junkie!

I‘ve just checked my blog just now and found out someone, who puts a screen name as Jakarta Casual, has left a comment about my post “Every Little Thing He Does is Magic” in early October. The writing was talking about football, about how I never understand why men in general are so crazy about this game, and about me offering a solution for a truce between men and his girl. When men think that shoes and handbags are stupid hobby and boring, so do I think about football in general.

Judging by his blog it seems like he’s a true believer of football or anything to do with it, and I apparently touched his soft spots and he counter-wrote my writing. I think it’s hilarious, and I quote verbatim here (he quoted my 8 rules and left comments on each):

Tuesday, October 16, 2007 A woman trying to get her head round football!

This post made me smile. I don’t normally go off about ather blogs unless they have a relevance to the main topic here but things are a bit quiet. This blog is from an Indonesian woman living in Aberdeen (which is in Scotland, that funny bit above England.) She has a good style, you can find more of her here, but this particular thread she bemoans being a footballing widow!

But I have nothing against football, as long as I don’t have to watch it. In fact, I think I’ve found a recipe for guys to make peace between football and a lovely girlfriend/wife: (my comments come after)

Have more than one TV and put them in different rooms. So you guys can watch football match in the living room and the girl can watch E! News in the bedroom, or vice versa. Better still, she can buy her own TV instead of buying nonsense handbags that all look the same and asking what we think! Of course it’s blody nice, just show me it at half time!

Everytime you watch football, your girl entitles to indulge herself on shopping trip. Your treat, of course. So you could sit and watch the match in peace, drinking beer, putting your feet up on the coffee table, picking nose, and farting, without having someone else reminds you to behave. No problem from me on that one. Working wives should have some independence.

Or better, without having someone asking where Jose Mourinho is or why David Beckham is not playing tonight with MU or why there is a guy with flag in every corner…. See above

You must do something nice prior to the match i.e. cook dinner, accompany the girl for grocery shopping, etc. Yes, it’s like a bribery. Or even visit the in laws. That’s credit in the bank for at least 6 months.
Never, ever, force your girl to watch the game with you, no matter how important the game is. Believe me, most sane guys would rather visit the dentist. The thought of sitting next to someone screaming like a fan at a Bay City Rollers is not most guy’s idea of fun.

Unless you’re sure that she’s a football junkie as well. Unless you’re up for a risk of going to search a perfect party dress for next month’s event together with the girl in 7 different malls and hundreds different clothing shops. Feel free to go to all the malls you want. Just pick me up at Eastern Promise when you’ve finished. Already? That was quick dear, can I just have one more…
Never try to explain the difference between Champions League and Premier Leagues, unless you’re ready to know the difference between platform and wedges, or between maroon and burgundy, or between pouch and wallet. I won’t even try explaining the offside law. There is a beauty and complexity about sport that is lacking in the average chat about shoes. We’re talking space shuttles here, asteroids…way over your head!

Record the game and watch it while she’s sleeping. Remember what I said about beauty and complexity?

Do not dare to watch the game while eating but not paying attention to what she’s cooked. Unless you’re ready to buy her a Louis Vuitton Lockit bag or worse, take her out for dinner every single night for the rest of the year because she refuses to do it again (come to think about it again, LV bag turns out to be much cheaper than 10 times dinner at 4 Seasons…). A bag’s a bag…you wouldn’t know the real thing from a 20 dollar rip off bought in KL. Remember all those business trips?

You might try to repeat the story of your favorite team’s victory. But be prepared to hear the victory of your girl of finding a vintage Fendi for 20 pounds. I don’t bother. The ejaculatory experience of Micky Thomas, one minute and it’s up for grabs is wasted on blank faces caught between the latest LV or Burberry bag.

Cool isn’t it?

I specially love the image of him sitting in Eastern Promise, drinking and waiting for his girl shops around Kemang. It’s not bad idea at all, since the more he spends, the better for the me (aah, another mystery like the offside law, space shuttles and asteroids, which I’m sure only a handful of people are able to understand…).

I have no idea why he thinks that I don’t understand the game and its rules. D’oh, football is too simple to understand, it’s the simplest game in the world (why else it becomes the most popular sport on earth?). But it’s boring. Period. I’d rather to discuss about space shuttles and asteroids (and hopefully my another interest, the big bang theory) rather than player transfer season and ridiculously large amount of money Beckham’s got when he’s off to play with LA Galaxy. I tried to watch my then boyfriend once when he was playing for FC Bugil’s but after 45 minutes watching the game, in between their beer drinking, player swapping, listening to my ipod and reading my book, I gave up and told him I’d go somewhere else and pick him up when it’s done.

I was actually crazy about football when I was in junior high, the period of Marco van Basten and Ruud Gullit (I have no idea why I picked Dutch team as my favourite) and I think that was the time when Maradona was still fit and scored goal with his golden hand (did I just reveal my age here? Oh no), but then I discovered nothing’s evolved afterwards, and soon I’ve lost interest. So I chucked my clippings away (oh yeah, I did have a thick book full of news and pictures of football players, plus Matt Biondi and Andre Agassi. I know, sad!) and started to enjoy the real life.

But just because I compare football with fashion show doesn’t mean I have the brain with the size of peanuts and handbags & shoes are the only things I care about in life or those are the only things I could think of. What I DON’ GET from football is NOT the game itself, but how could men sit motionless except to put beer glass into their mouth and watch the same thing over and over and over and over again for hours, and the difference is only the uniform colours?

Anyway, I guess I’m trying to say that everyone has a hobby and we just need to find a balance in between the hobby and the people we care about. No pain, no gain. You get what you want, but you must sacrifice a little, pay the price. Why do you think we need good shoes? So if you start mumbling on last night’s good game, we’re ready to run away in steady feet. And the bags? They’re like shields, as we know you’d fall asleep when we start talking about it, we use them as our protection. When you start talking about football, we’d start talking about bags. Then both can fall sleep peacefully…..

 

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