I know.
You're not shocked at all.
Of course this is not my first blog. How could it be so fresh? How could the content be so relavent? How could you be feeling as if you were lost your entire life and now you're feeling at home.
It's okay friend. You're safe now. Fall into my arms.
My first blogging experience was creating/writing the "greatest" sports blog ever to be blogged. It was my obsession for some years. But like all good things, it had to come to an end. I got burnt out. It was a downward spiral that could only be rivaled by an 80s hair-metal band...too much too fast too soon...
The admiration.
The drugs.
The women.
All of these pouring in abundance onto my plate and inevitably falling over the edges.
That blog was about "football" and not "futbol" and was super "popular" and not "new as fuck" like this one is.
Somewhere around the end of that blog's lifeline, I began taking less interest in "football" and more interest in "futbol."
And that my friend...is where this story begins...
The Beautiful Game
I probably owe my interest in soccer (I'm from the United States so get over it) to two individuals: my good friend/ex-rommate Greg, and the dog I convinced my parents to buy themselves because I really wanted her, Praline.
Greg was big Manchester United fan and had the patience of a saint in explaining the rules, tactics, and beautiful aspects of soccer. I was naive young girl seeing the bright lights of the city--I enjoyed what I was seeing but was mostly oblivious to what was going on.
Watching Manchester United was exciting. I could only imagine it to be like a new baseball fan watching the New York Yankees when first getting into the sport. They were noticeably better at doing whatever they were doing than other teams, and even some of their players were noticeably better than everyone on the pitch, even in the eyes of this "soccer virgin."
My parents' dog, Praline, proved to be a comparable side-kick in getting me into soccer. When your fresh out of college, living back at your parents' house and unemployed, there are few better joys in life then waking up with "your" dog at 11:00AM in an empty house to turn on Fox Soccer Channel and watch AC Milan games. Come to think of it, I could have sworn that I watched AC Milan games every day that year...always in my parents' basement with Praline lying on my chest....and always at 11:00AM. But really, this seemed like my daily routine for at least four months. Did Praline and I enter some sort of Serie A wormhole where time was distorted and Italian league teams are playing games every day at 11AM Eastern US time? Not positive...but it sure felt like it.
Praline and I got super into AC Milan that year. And while she remains an avid Milanista, I was drawn back to the city of Manchester....
The Beginning
Much like the geographically scattered sports teams I already enjoyed, I was always drawn to characters in soccer.
I remember liking Joey Barton. Yeah I know. He was always slightly insane and something about that intrigued me. At the time I would have said that I saw a bit of myself in him. Now I would say, I wish that I could have seen a bit of myself in him--the true IDGAF (I don't give a fuck) attitude.
I remember really liking Micah Richards. We were around the same age when I first started taking notice of City, and although this wasn't unique to Micah or City, I found it inspiring that someone so young could already be starting/playing at such a high level.
Manchester, in a strange American kind of way, still felt like home after watching so many United games, but City felt more like more of my own thing. They weren't nearly as prestigious as United, but I really dug that. Did I really want to jump on the bandwagon of a team that had been perennial winners for the last decade? No. A mid-table team was more my speed.
The Free Kick
Seemingly out of nowhere, I caught wind that Manchester City were just bought by some rich oil bro's from the middle east. They weren't here to mess around and they were going to start buying players immeditaly. Bye bye mid-table club of my dreams. We became a super-power overnight. We were going to purchase every player on the planet.
Give me the Beckhams of the world.
The Ronaldinho's.
The Pele's.
The Madonna's.
We didn't Posh Spice's husband. We didn't get a legend. We didn't get a super-old legend in order to sell tickets. We didn't get an 80's pop singer.
We got Robinho.
Now, I didn't know much about Robinho at this point. I knew he played for Real Madrid, and Real Madrid were really good, and I that we paid a boat-load of money for him -- so it's not like this guy was going to suck.
I would argue that he did go on to suck, but I must give him credit for the moment that I fell most-deeply in love with Manchester City. I get chills and slightly aroused every time I here this phrase...
"INSTANT HERO"
This was the first time in my sports-watching history that I witnessed visual poetry. I don't know how to not sound cliche, but this moment took my breath away.
Robinho was to be the first of many big-name saviours that were going to turn Manchester City into the England version of the Galacticos. I was sure of it. And I was sure happy that it was happening at this time to a team I had taken a liking to. It was a most convent coupe.
The Day
What I thought would happen over night (Step 1. Get money - Step 2. Buy 11 stud players Step 3. Collect league trophy) took a bit longer then expected.
The journey was a fun one though and I remember, fondly, watching more characters move through the ranks.
A young Vincent Kompany.
Craig Bellamy
That one shitty Paraguian striker.
The tall/lanky Brazilian striker I referred to as Simply "Jo."
Elano
Sean Wright Phillips
The Now
The season just recently ended and it was an interesting one. By all means, City have underachieved for the stature they now possess, but next season should shake things up. Along the way, we signed one of my favorite players in Kevin De Bruyne and spent most of the season contemplating what Pep Guardiola would do to the squad.
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