The Dream is Just a Dream Again

9 September 2006
Arsenal 1 - 1 Middlesbrough

22' Morrison (A)
68' Henry (F)

For the first time in my life, a very specific fear passed through me: that I might not get to see my ideas in print or on the silver screen. I'm a writer (really? you say) and probably the only real goal I have in life is to create something and get paid for it. Sure it's a bit of a capitalistic dream but being paid for what I've created is tantamount to knowing people are actually reading (or watching, or whatever) the damn thing. So if I get myself a nice check (and I'm not talking millions, I don't have any kind of a swollen head - well maybe just a little bit), I'll feel good, like I've met my goal. I'll be able to die that much happier. Then it hit me today; while I was moving through one of few stories that permanently resides in my head, I realized, "it may just stay there forever." Which is terrifying, really. It's roughly as terrifying as realizing that we're all mortal and that I personally will die in roughly fifty years from now. This fear, perhaps irrational perhaps not, comes on the heels of my first successful interview at a temp-to-hire agency. Up until this point in my life, I've only held retail jobs or internships, all of which I've had because I've known somebody (who knows somebody). This is the first time that I sent my resume in blind and they called back because they thought I'd be a good guy to run around in a office at fifteen-an-hour. For comfort I remember the sections of "Fever Pitch" when Hornby discusses working pointless jobs just for some bucks to drink beer and watch Arsenal - which is, at this point, roughly equivalent to what my life has become. I get drunk with my friends, watch dumb movies, and sit in front of my computer breathlessly watching Arsenal in a tiny little window, shouting many miles away from Ashburton to SHOOT THE DAMN BALL, HLEB! I'm not sure but I think this is an existential crisis waiting to happen, except I did that back in twelfth grade and it was not all that it is cracked up to be. Existentialism is a great philosophy, don't get me wrong, and for much of my formative years (we'll say from when I was seventeen to nineteen, 2001 to 2003) it was my prime belief. I don't subscribe to any religion and I was pretty individualistic, as teenagers are wont to be, so I thought that a philosophy built on the idea of "individual experience" was pretty much dead on. Then, a teacher that I shall never forget introduced me to social constructionism, and my life was never the same again. Social constructionism is an unwieldy thing to describe, full of puffy declarations and long-winded definitions (like all rhetoric, I suppose, which helped breed in me a strong distaste for critical analysis in any field - I support analysis but not the methods by which they are discussed). Essentially, social constructionism takes existentialism to the next logical step: everything we know and believe has been socially created and is socially reinforced through everyday interaction. Through such reinforcement, our beliefs become objective realities which are almost impossible to distinguish from "common sense" or "divine will." At some point long ago, one human condemned murder and another human thought that a good idea: so it has become, so it will be. Murder is a sin, murder does not help us progress. Through discourse we create our reality and ascribe various places within our context; murder is not necessarily evil, as animals murder each other for the simple need of food. The idea of murder then, of cruel intention, of deceit and corruption, are human inventions, not by design but by effect. We have plotted against each other and therefore the concept of deceit exists: if deceit did not happen we would have no need for the idea of deceit. I'm a poor person to choose for a definition of social constructionism: I can never explain it well enough to my friends when they ask about it, and I often end up just giving them a book by someone much more authoritative than myself. My point is that sport is a human invention: the concept of drawing up rules by which to compete is pretty much unique to humans (although I'm sure whatever alien races exist in the universe most likely follow similar antics). The reason for rules is because we believe in fairness on the field of battle, our warriors obey a code of honor. If they cheat, if they shirk that honor, we condemn and shun them as they have condemned our agreements: see poor Rafael Palmeiro, a great baseball player who vanished when the taint of steroids touched his legacy. Breaking news: I'm watching Anibal Sanchez try to throw a no-hitter. ESPN just cut away from the White Sox gauging the Red Sox 8-1 to this pitching domination, and the first three pitches Sanchez threw were about as wild as it can get. It's almost as if he sensed the national attention shift; suddenly no one cares about the Red Sox (and why should they, 8 games out of first in the AL East and rapidly falling out of contention for wild card) and suddenly everyone cares about every pitch this guy throws. I don't know anything about him, I'll be honest, but this is why sports fascinates me so much. This pitcher on the third place Florida Marlins team (17 games out of first in the NL east - a little bit worse than the Red Sox, yet somehow they're doing better in the wild card race) has captivated us. He just got a double play! No hits through eight! I was about to go out tonight but I do not want to leave until this gets settled. This guy is not Randy Johnson, he's not Greg Maddux or Roger Clemens, Mark Prior (gag) or whomever: he probably makes the Major League minimum (around $300K last I checked - which is awesome, but peanuts compared to Andy Pettitte's $16 million) and he's all we'll be talking about tomorrow, given he gets another three outs. Let's all hold our collective breath. Let's dream a little: a 22-year-old starting pitcher who's approximately seven months older than me is the best pitcher tonight. Let's let our pride swell as we watch this man assume some kind of invisible talent for the night as he evolves into the untouchable. There is more adrenaline in my body right now than I've had for a number of days. We have one out to go now and this is more alive than I've felt in weeks. He got it! Oh wow. All the adrenaline has flushed out of me, but watching him hug every teammate made my eyes tear up. The first no-hitter since Randy Johnson's perfect game in 2004. Sure this has nothing to do with football, but it has everything to do with sport. I need to recuperate. This stuff is stressful, and I don't even care about the Marlins! I also have a minor confession. I'm not writing this around the Middlesbrough game. I'm writing this sporadically over the course of a week. Why, you ask? Because I have two weeks in between Arsenal games and I have to do something! I should talk about some soccer, though, so let's get on with my talk of the game. Middlesbrough doggedly beat Chelsea when Arsenal took down the Croatian juggernaut Dynamo Zagreb on August 23rd, and when attendees of the Arsenal game were leaving the announcement of the Chelsea defeat was greeted with loud cheers. Any victory against Chelsea is a victory for the rest of the league. They've owned the EPL for the last two years and now it's basically 19 teams against one. Anything to keep the championship out of their hands. That said, I want to take it Middlesbrough. We've started out the season with a draw and a defeat - that's lame. Let's do this up, Gunners! I'm happy because now they've finally settled all the trade talk - Reyes and Cole are out, Gallas and Baptista are in. That's good; I don't know how great these new guys will be, but we got the two out who wanted to be out. Gallas so far, at 10 minutes in, has shown some great mid-field quality (Baptista has yet to play). They've been attacking much more like they were towards the end of the Manchester City match, with a lot of strength going down the middle, which is more exciting and what we all want to see. None of this too-much-passing shit, I can't deal with that. It was like watching a car wreck a couple weeks ago, as they refused to really attack for more than an hour. They've had possession for something like 70% of the game and they have nothing to show but a deficit! How does this keep happening! I want to break something I'm so angry. This is looking like the Yankees in 2005 - talent all over the field yet a complete inability to produce. Wenger looks like he has an ulcer and I might be joining him in a few. If only it wasn't three in the morning with my mom asleep in the room next to me, I could be screaming and shouting like I really, really want to do. Aside from all the great philosophical banter, sports also drive me to fury and drinking. The longer this goes on, the more I begin to fear we're going to suffer another defeat. The way they're playing, it doesn't look at all like they can put a goal together. And now the Middlesbrough captain has been red-carded! If we can't get a win out of this, I will ... I don't know. Get hammered. Tomorrow. Oh thank God. Penalty kick from Thierry - but it was Eboue who produced the penalty. I haven't been a big fan of him, but I am now. He's totally been creating some great opportunities that just weren't capitalized on. This is hurting me. The dream has slipped away. My fears are being realized. Two draws and a defeat. What a fucking way to start a season. Hornby, your curse is slowly appearing above Ashburton. Will the next twenty-four years be spent in agony for me too?