THE SEASON DIARY OF DB, AGED 13 & ¾
For this week’s piece, I thought I would take you back in time to my childhood diary. It’s kind of a Back to the Future type vibe.
“I had a terrible dream last night.
I had somehow woken up in the year 2015.
After looking out of the window and being disappointed that cars were still being driven rather than flown around as they had promised would happen in Tomorrow’s World, I decided to turn on the TV.
My initial excitement upon discovering that there were what seemed like thousands of channels, rather than just four, quickly turned to further disappointment when most of them seemed to be showing cooking programmes, or inbred looking toothless freaks screaming at each other on programmes with such sub-titles as “You slept with my Mum, now we’re both pregnant with your twins.”
This disappointment turned to a sense of dread when I discovered the sports channels….
There were a number of channels dedicated to Sport, and I settled on one called Sky Sports, hoping to catch up with the latest football news.
This is when things started to get really strange…….
There were reporters at what resembled football grounds, with what resembled football fans surrounding them, but there was no mention of football.
There were what resembled league tables, but things such as goals and points were now replaced with amounts of cash, and “ins and outs.”
It was then that a terrifying thought struck me…….had football gone???
I continued to watch, as the man presenting what I discovered was called “Transfer Deadline Day” continued to get more and more animated as the amount of money football clubs were spending rose….
How much??!! What in God’s name was going on here?!
Arsenal had not long ago bid about £750,000 for Mick Harford and I thought that was a bit steep, but £800 million??!!
Were the people responsible for these obscene amounts of cash also responsible for murdering football, or was it Sky Sports?
I came to the assumption that football had been kidnapped by one of these and football fans everywhere were being held to ransom.
There was another thing in this nightmare future world called the internet, which featured this thing called Twitter.
My worst fears were all but confirmed here; football was gone.
I found hundreds, maybe thousands, of Arsenal fans going completely mental, they were saying “the season is over!”
The date was Tuesday September 1st, 2015.
I checked for results from the weekend expecting the worst, but it seems we had won away at Newcastle.
Upon further investigation it appeared that people were in fact going mental over this Transfer Deadline Day thing.
What confused me even more, were the arguments that were going on.
Now, I was used to arguing about football, defiantly sticking to my guns over Arsenal being better than Liverpool and Tottenham, but there were no Tottenham or Liverpool fans in sight, Arsenal fans were arguing with each other, and still nobody was talking about football!
There was a brief moment of comfort when I noticed this Twitter thing was full of the familiar whiff of bullshit.
I was more than used to newspapers claiming that Arsenal were “in for X player”, or had “been chasing Y player”, and most people knew that the golden rule was never to believe what you read.
We’d had our fingers burned over Kerry Dixon and learned our lessons there.
This comfort didn’t last long though, as I became aware that the people peddling this bullshit were not even part of any news organisation! Some of them were even apparently Arsenal fans!
Furthermore, and this is the bit that no doubt had me giggling in my sleep, rather than following the golden rule, PEOPLE ACTUALLY BELIEVED THEM!
Seriously, people were even asking these purveyors of cack if they “could see anyone coming in” and such like.
You really couldn’t make it up.
You know that moment in the dream where your subconscious suddenly realises that it is a dream?
I think this was the moment.
Then, as with all dreams, I woke up just at the wrong time. Just before the “transfer window” was about to “slam shut”, and they handed the trophy to the winners.
I sat up in bed and thought about it for a while, petrified that this could actually happen.
As more time passed though, I realised how absurd it was….
Then I thought back to the beginning of that dream, where I was disappointed that there were no flying cars, as promised by Tomorrow’s World.
Suddenly that prediction didn’t seem so absurd.
I mean, it couldn’t be any more absurd than my nightmare vision of the future could it?
– A time where there is actually a day that a sports channel dedicates to transfers, with a league table of who has spent what, among other things.
– A time where clubs are judged on how much money they’ve spent!
– A time where those who are judged not to have done enough in the transfer market are told their season ended in September!
– A time where spending money on players is in itself seen as some kind of competition!
More chance of having flying cars in 2015 I reckon…….. “
I tell you what, if Marty McFly had gone forward in time and ended up on Transfer Deadline Day he would’ve just goosed his mother and ended it all.
Anyway, we have the visit of the delightful Stoke City coming up on Saturday.
A 3 o’clock kick off on a Saturday afternoon.
No better way to leave the nonsense of the transfer season behind and get on with the football season.
I’ve heard since the poxy window slammed shut that the atmosphere could turn “poisonous” should we not win.
To be honest, I couldn’t give a f..k.
You can take your poison and shove it up your arse, I’ll be in the pub…….
I should tell you a bit about myself. I’m not a stat man or a tactical genius, and you certainly won’t hear my opinion on Arsenal Football Club finances. Not that there’s anything wrong with any of that, it’s just not my thing. Don’t get me wrong, some do this very well but, for me, football has always been about what’s on the pitch, watching the game, discussing it over a beer with your mates after, then going into work on Monday morning either gloating or defending your team to the hilt, resisting the temptation to punch the token deluded Tottenham fan in the throat. Oh and my Dad and brothers are all with the Dark Side…