International heart-break
#1
International break. It's no longer about whether England perform solidly and win and more so a thoroughly painstaking experience looking through your fingers as you cover your face with your hand gagging on your heart in mouth, hoping/praying/sacrificing the Arsenal supporting neighbours cat to pacify the footballing Gods type of evening in.
We (The Tottenham) have got plenty of international players. But it's the ones who represent England that tend to come back with missing limbs and shrapnel embedded in their splintered bodies. This time round, we have Huddlestone, Lennon and Crouch representing. Some of you may argue that your concerns will be more focused on the likes of Bale and van der Vaart. Both more likely to play a part for their nation. I think. You know what, I haven't even checked the fixture list for midweek and next week. I'm that frigging professional. The fact of the matter is, you and I will both be hoping for no injuries more so than looking out for actual results and performances. The priority is club over country. Again.
We don't want our merchandise returned damaged.
So, what to do in the mean time? Not a lot. Other than endure the time out from the Premier League by going for brisk walk in the park and writing poetry for your lover. Perhaps the weaker amongst you will try to pretend you do care about Fabio and the boys because you prefer to dance with the devil and watch the game with a machete in one hand and the neighbours cat in the other.
I sadly can't muster up the will power at the moment to ready myself for the torment of watching the live coverage.
Okay, you got me, I've misplaced my machete.
My attention, to be perfectly honest with you, will be firmly stuck on another type of kick-off altogether this weekend (rather than the one against Montenegro on Tuesday 12th). I'm talking about the live X-Factor shows that begin on Saturday. Yes, you heard me right. I said, X-Factor. I said X-Factor on a Spurs blog. I've gone and done it now, I've pulled you all outside of the boundaries of sports writing and into off-topic discussion. Don't shake your head at me. Hey, stop spitting at your monitor screen, calm down will ya!
In my defence, I watch it for the pure cynicism that it evokes from me, as it's the most fabricated, contrived show on television and somehow people who tune in seem to either not care about the big con and the awful set-piece acting and scripted pretences or just accept it for what it is and watch it regardless for the kicks provided by the soap opera dramatics it positively drowns in. Bit like following England I guess. You might ask why, if I know its such a shallow show, why would I still tune in just to anger the blood to boiling point? I guess it's because I can scream and shout at the stupidity and the egos without the back draft of worrying about the end result. Oh hold up, that's just like following England again.
However, the Three Lions have Ashley and X-Factor has Cheryl.
No contest.
How can I possibly resist the beauty of Tweedy as she subtly looks down at the sheet of paper in front of her, eyes glistening with concentration, and looks back up again to the contestant waiting nervously on stage as she reads out the highlighted-for-her-attention relevant sound-bite to exuberant applause from the studio audience.
Hating on International break? A million percent yes from me.
You have been reading the first in the series of Spooky's International Break diary journals.
