Camp Nou Is My Church, The Players Are My Demi-God.

Posted on May 25, 2011

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Over the years I have argued that watching an English football team is painfully boring and stupid – borpid. Other than cricket, nothing could be as painful, not even feeding your toes to a lawnmower. And that is why I have graduated from the mind-numbing, coma-inducing English Premier League to the more vibrant and classy football of the Spanish La Liga.

Nor could I understand how someone from Malaysia could possibly support Manchester United, a team who were formally endorsing those hateful bastards at AIG for a whole season and made up of players from France, England and in the case of Wayne Rooney, Prison. Where’s the connection? And most importantly, what’s the point? If you intend to commit to something perennially silly, like ignoring your local football club and support a team that is thousands of miles away from where you’re from, you might just as well support the best – FC Barcelona.

I have always believed that English football is overrated; then one day, out of nowhere, my younger brother announced that he had become a fan of Manchester United. This was a living nightmare. If he had said that he’d become interested in smoking, I could have made all sorts of threats. If he had said he’d become interested in homosexuality, we could have talked. But an English football team? I had no response. I didn’t even have a reaction.

This made me realize that monopoly was evil. With the monopoly or over-exposure of the English game in Malaysian television, it has caused our football citizens to be riled with ridiculous hopes and silly sporting insights. Just because he spent so much time watching Manchester play this season and was charged on seeing them battle towards their 19th English league title, he thought that God would shudder.

God tells us that there are ten rules in life. There is, however, an eleventh rule. It’s a big one. It’s bigger than the one that says you should never meet Encik Awang, because he’ll turn out to be deeply unpleasant. It’s bigger than the one about not hankering your neighbour’s wife. It is known simply as Rule Eleven and what it says is this: do not, under any circumstances, become a Red Devil.

For the agnostics or the aethiests, the logic is stark-naked obvious. In the Champions League Final 2009, even with the presence of a fallen angel (Cristiano Ronaldo) on their side, Manchester United was unconvincing and thus lost. This time, it’s without that nancy boy with that idiotic looking hair. This time, FC Barcelona is a better and matured unit. This time, again, you will be sitting in a bar or the Street Fiesta in Ipoh, in your stupid Manchester United jersey, pretending desperately to convince yourself that you are happy. But you won’t be, because this time around it won’t be 2 – 0, it would definitely be more.

Sadly, I fear that if Malaysian television continues airing the lacklustre performance of Manchester United, a great many people will begin to wonder the very exsistence of God. I urge everyone to watch the Champions League Final 2011. Because it will make you so miserable, empty, and petrified of breaking Rule Eleven. And to our television stations: you’d have to be a complete bastard to inflict that much silliness on someone.

If you hate this entry, feel free to comment below. Alternatively, if you intend to inflict physical pain to me, you can do so by finding me at the Street Fiesta in Ipoh. You can view the information about the event here. I’ll be staying at the Syuen Hotel. If you have difficulty finding me, MC Stiff would know where my whereabouts are. He’ll be performing at the fiesta as well as judging the shuffle competition.

Watch FC Barcelona demolish Manchester United in the Champions League Final two years ago:

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