I am, as of about three years ago, a big fan of Spanish soccer powerhouse FC Barcelona. Not coincidentally, they are, for the past three years, unquestionably the best team in the world, and employ the services of the best player of his generation, Lionel Messi.
I don’t mind being one of the latest (and lamest) people to hop on that bandwagon. Being a Barça partisan is a fucking fantastic experience. All they do is win, and in bunches. You may remember the Clásico against Real Madrid in November, who had just signed the world’s most recognized coach and were smashing all comers. A building has a better chance against a wrecking ball: 5-0 in Barça’s favor. The second leg of the Champion’s League match against Arsenal last week, after Barça dropped the first 2-1? The Spaniards breezed through 3-1 against one of England’s best squads, despite their two best defenders being out. It’s gotten to the point now where it’s like a game in a Playstation season: a simple 2-1 victory doesn’t even do much for me. It’s OK, but unless Messi scores a brilliant goal and the team piles on five or more, I am tempted to hit reset.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
On Rooting for Barça
I embrace my fair-weather fandom: