And We Grow Up

24 October 2006

West Brom 0-2 Arsenal (Carling Cup)

Aliadiere 34' (pk)
Aliadiere 49'

This was Arsenal’s first game in the 06/07 Carling Cup, and back in late October, it felt at least kind of pointless—I’d rather the Gunners get some rest than fight for a cup that is only slightly important. Of course, now they’re in the semifinals and I’m getting dreams of silverware, but rest might have helped our hopes of taking the league. It’s nice to have the chance to salvage a season that will probably yield no results otherwise, even though it took me about a year and a half to understand how the Carling Cup related to the rest of the football played in England (and the fact that is the Littlewoods Cup that Hornby mentions and the League Cup that history mentions). The question is, is the Carling Cup worth it? I say yes, for a couple of reasons. One, damn it, I’d like to win something. I don’t really give two shits what it is, if Arsenal wins something, I’m happy. Two, coaches often put younger players out to play for the earlier rounds, and you can’t buy that kind of experiences. This part of the season, if I recall, was absurdly aggravating. Arsenal would win a game, then they’d lose or draw a game, and I was just left watching as Manchester United continued to put most distance between us and them on the league table. Henry went on the injured list around this time as well, which I interpreted as the sign of the end times. Instead, it turned into a great boon. The younger players, like Persie, Adebayor, and Walcott, were put on the field a lot more and had to mature very fast. It was shaky for a while, but they’re allstars these days; with Henry’s return in recent weeks, I feel like we’re unstoppable. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Late October. I spent a lot of this time in a general funk; I was too tired to write, and I felt increasingly lonely as the reality of moving out of my mom’s house really sank in. This funk can attribute to why I stopped working on this project for a few months: I was tapped out of ideas and energy. However, the last few weeks have been the exact opposite; I’m writing more, thanks to Alcova, and I’m entering my first real relationship, a thing I’ve danced around for years. It hasn’t been for a lack of trying, although I’ve never been on to confidently pursue a girl that I’m interested in. A combination of factors have led to this lack of romance: a fear of commitment, and some deep-rooted sexual insecurities. The fear of commitment doesn’t always enter the equation, but sometimes I worry that it is the yin to the yang of my attraction to that which I cannot have. It’s a complex web of desires that I don’t fully understand, and has often kept me from being happy. I’ve realized at various points that the right girl would come along and that stuff would go out the window, but when you’re crushing on someone, those neuroses press upon your soul like a two-ton weight. It’s what I call the Eternal Sunshine dilemma and epiphany, in obvious reference to the film (my girlfriend is now rolling her eyes and skipping to the next paragraph because I’ve definitely already told her this). My desire for happiness is weighed against my fear of sadness: at what point do I figure that the happiness I’ll experience is worth any sadness I might experience? The epiphany then, happens with the right girl—the happiness with her is worth any potential sadness. You just kind of stop caring about the outcome, because right now is so amazing. While it sounds like an easy mindset to achieve (you’re basically just telling your brain to shut up and stop overanalyzing), it is surprisingly difficult. I tried for a number of years to see life this way, but I just couldn’t. A girl would be interested in me and I would panic and avoid her and kill whatever was blossoming. Somehow though, this time, my brain shrugged its shoulders and didn’t say anything, almost like it was finally letting me have a relationship. My neuroses and anxieties subsided and I find myself in my first committed relationship with a girl I really dig. Perhaps I drank enough liquor that I killed the neurotic part of my brain. Wouldn’t that be cool?