Watching a soccer game: the ordeal

The soccer game trauma

They say 

that only prisoners 

can feel what freedom means 

and so i  had willingly placed myself 

in the most unlikely place i could be 

trying out new places where i would not be recognised 

as me ..

Last time i was in a room with screaming soccer calls 

I could not just walk out the door, i lived there, 

so i went back to the scene of the crime , 

knowing this time i could turn my back 

and leave and go to my “Heim”*


*Heim means home in German.( it was the only rhyme i could find and by this time, after all those years living in a German speaking environment , i suspect i am beginning to think in German)

So i decided to challenge myself and watch a soccer game after i had given up my t.v. in favour of my daughter , and had decided to live  with a clean t.v clutter free mind so tonight i had gone to the local Irish pub to watch the game England vs. Slovakia. 

Slovakia is as close to having a  noncontraversal nationality in Europe i will ever come to; since officially i am of Slovakian roots, my late mother was born and raised in Slovakia till the Nazi occupation during WW2 and so i was curious to see the Slovakian team and how they will play. 

I reserved a table far from the maddening crowds and sat back relaxing with my fake alcoholic beverage, choosing a fruit juice that could pass and proceeded to type away on my laptop as i chewed toast without meat, mayonnaise and lots of veggies especially made to cater for the rare vegetarian  pub soccer fan.

The usual crowd began to gather and very soon loud British English filled the air as the Slovakian insisted on seriously singing their national anthem, the first time i had ever heard it, i scanned the faces of the national Slovakian team and found them rather good looking but it could be that i am slightly biased. 

The English played rather rough, i noticed as i looked away from my typing,the dog seemed more focused on the screen than me, so far the score is zero -zero, and the soccer viewers are behaving though it could be because most of the people are not English; Irish, Polish  German, swiss, Welsh etc. 

I am enjoying the space , much more interesting and less tempting for distracting conversations than Starbucks, far from the  bespectacled acne faced students’  Starbucks crowd and of course Alcohol has always been responsible for expecting the unexpected..

I am witnessing the scene in the Buddhist way i have adopted so well described in my Mindfulness book, no longer an outcast, i am now a Buddhist in training , learning the art of detachment, so well practiced by the Swiss, watching the large screen as one loud Northern Englishman talks while the others nod in agreement  emptying their thoughts at the same time as their glasses of beer..

Ah, this is the life! No more the screaming babies of the day time writing spots ,trying to write in libraries where it ALWAYS seems to be  extremely loud toddler reading practice time..i have moved to big league, why did i not think of this before?The perfect place to write ,behind men who ignore me anyway, soccer has ZERO attraction as a distraction while the men wait for the men on the screen to kick the ball in the net…

No longer forcing a man to answer questions such as :

  1. How long till the end of the first half?
  2. How long till the end of the game?
  3. Who are the ones in the red /blue/ yellow/ white / green shirts?
  4. How long till the end of the game?
  5. What’s the name of that guy?
  6. How long till the end of the game?
  7. How long till the game ends?
  8. How long till the game ends?
  9. How long till the end of the game?
  10. How long till the end of the game?

Watching a soccer game in a pub is great

I was sure to ask the owner if a barking dog might be a problem and was reassured it was not. 

I chose a local neighbourhood pub i used to escape to sometimes seeking to hear English spoken where i used to live years ago, and sure enough the same regulars attend..nothing changes much in pubs except the ownership and so the nervous Irish guy who used to warn me the dog must leave every time she barked is now a pleasant young guy who is busy in the kitchen being a very nonthreatening sort of blending in the scenery shy boss that could be easily mistaken for the cook..

The game continues and i have no idea how long till the end of the game but i am surrounded by English soccer team flags and feel as if i am still married but instead of ONE crazy screaming guy , i am now sitting behind a group of relatively quiet guys who do not ask me to be quiet, and do not keep everyone up by 2F50E65200000578-3357328-image-a-29_144994455968434F0A1DC00000578-3626893-image-a-1_1465195834063insisting on watching every game ever broadcast on t.v., even those international games with different time zones broadcast in the middle of the night so nobody can sleep. 

A roaring wave floods my ears but so far the English are unable to get over the Slovakian..i am watching like a spy secretly looking out for the men dressed in white ( slovakia) while the men around me are looking out for the  English guys dressed in bright red. 

so how long till the end of the game?

I would like to go home , i ate  my fake Irish pub ham free  toast , i drank my fake alcohol free drink , and now i would like to end my fake interest in soccer and really an excuse to find a place that might have inspired James Joyce , though he probably was writing with an elegant fountain pen in a notebook downtown..

Here in the suburbs people are more friendly, there are no bankers energy as there is in the streets of Zurich, the dog and i sit missing the shrew who is now sleeping in the Animal hospital , unless the medical team had decided to end her/his life, but for tonight i can still remember the sweet eyes of my rescued shrew, tomorrow the news might be more devastating , anything can happen, England can lose in soccer, and the Shrew might have left this world and gone on to another reincarnation, this time perhaps as an English soccer player, anything is possible in this world..even choosing to spend an evening in a pub though i do not like soccer, i do not drink alcohol and i don not eat fat fried pub food nor enjoy entering into conversations with strangers who are far from  perfect and have nothing to say other than discuss points, make  mocking nationalistic comments and engage in temporary affection with an unsuspecting random stranger sitting by the bar. 

Here in the back, the Buddhist spirit is safely residing, producing words and dreaming of a shrew to tame. jamie-vardy-england-euro-2016mr-mole-2-colors-fb.jpg



About seagullsea

a seagull flying over the great ocean of life observing.
This entry was posted in a letter to the stars, a stranger in paradise, European life, people watching, swiss life, Uncategorized and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

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