If you see me crying, leave me alone, let it all hang out; it has nothing to do with a tabanca or tabantruck. It is just that I can’t stand what is happening with our national football senior team. I feel sad for Otto Pfister, coach of the team. He is a brave man. Now, doctors have been warning me to stay away from World Cup qualifiers and West Indies cricket. Once I was an avid fan of both, and the ability of the teams to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory led me to a deep depression and Zoloft...it was that bad. They ordered no TV, only watching American ice hockey...no lie.
When I see Caribbean teams beating us, and a Bermudan player behaving like Muhammad Ali and predicting a victory (and getting it), I fell into deep despair. That cocky son-of-a-gun wounded me. It was better if he stabbed me through the heart with a dagger...at least I would have died. He could have kicked me in the groin with a steel-tip boot. It was utter disrespect for a nation whose national foolballers in the 50s, 60s and 70s had Caribbean teams quaking in their boots at Piarco Airport. Big hot sun and men were trembling, knowing that they had to face the might of heroes like Everard “Gally” Cummings, Steve David, Tyrone “The Tank” De Labastide, Lincoln “Tiger” Phillips, Jean Moutett, the Quanvie brothers, the Turtons, The Aleongs, Leo de Leon and a galaxy of football stars, too numerous to mention.
I have been told visiting players had to be called out of the toilet on match day to face formidable foes. It was licks like lentil peas. Some, it was reported, cried for their mamas...no lie. But today it is different. Where have the stars all gone? A Bermudan player could diss us, and we have to take that and cool it. We didn’t show him who is boss. We didn’t zip his Listerine mouth. These days my only consolation is a picture of the famous 1973 team that had more stars than the Milky Way, and was robbed on the way to Germany 1974 by a bandit referee, but has been hailed as “the greatest.” I really don’t wish to get into any argument with anybody; not even my ex-wife. I surrender. You see me, I gone!