Do you want them to jump up and down like happy clowns?When Chelsea won the League Cup a couple of years back, after dominating the Premier League, they acted like a toddler who just crapped in a toilet by himself for the first time. Or, better, a college kid who just successfully nailed his first beer bong. Yes, that was how they reacted. And it came, like I say, after they won the league in about as masterfully assertive a manner as a team can.
So if Arsenal win, do you think they should go bananas after winning fuck all for 6 years? I sure don't. If I'm in that squad, I walk on stage, accept my medal, gather round the trophy, smile for the photo and smile at the memory and respect of the teams I've beaten and respectfully exit stage right. I might, at first, be rather inclined to jut my arms in the arm and hug my teammates. I'd likely, as the seconds pass, run to the support that has stuck by us year after woefully barren year. And it's entirely likely that I'd actually leap into the air a few times. But all in all, I reckon, I'd stay remarkably un-Leo Messi-likein my celebration (for the record, I whole-heartedly support Leo and his celebrations in this video). And I'd be even less of a reflection of Pepe Reina.
You might be asking, "Why, you crazy fool?" Well, let's see, what will have happened?
They'll have won something, yes. But for me, the thought, the pressing and pervasive thought, the tell-tale heart beating under the floorboards is the big, fat, dripping with reality line we'd all feel like shouting if we were being honest with ourselves ... "Well it's about goddamn time." It's the sigh of relief. It's not jubilation. It's the ... and they've damn near said this themselves ... it's the feeling of ... "right, now let's get on with it." If they go from there and win the league, win the FA Cup, win the (SHOCK! HORROR!) Champions League, then let us flood the pub with our tears. But, if they win that League Cup, let's not shit ourselves. Let's shake hands. Let's pat each other on the back and then let's put our goddamn game face on and get the fuck in there on the next one with that newly christened winner's attitude. It'd be like driving a spanking new car to work. A car that we already tore the quiet country roads up with.
I've been saying it for a while now (well, at least since I first heard the fantastic line in Inglorious Basterds) ... attendez la creme. Wait for it. Wait for the cream. Wait for that velvety nugguty center. Wait for the deliciousness. Wait for the best. It's not the first bite at the cherry ... that just lets you know what it tastes like .. it's the second, third and fourth ... it's gobbling the little fucker whole. Because at that point you know what it tastes like, don't you? I've forgotten what winning something tastes like, what it feels like. I've forgotten the chills you get, the spring in your step and the 'jut' it gives to your chin as you thrust it into the air at any given opportunity. Red light? I've a chin that says, "screw you, mister, we've just won a trophy." Long day at the office? Right, chin. Bad haircut? You better believe it, I've got the chin of a winner, fella. But as it stands, I've forgotten how high you can hold you head. I've forgotten that it gives you the last word.
I want to remember all of those feelings. I want to remember them so I can want them again. Savvy?
When I lose at the FIFA (I write that as if I regularly play. I don't. I'm too poor at it.) my first nine times in row and I manage to sneak one crazy victory, I'm not running around my friend's living room. I'm thinking, well, I got one over you, didn't I? Then I'm thinking about getting to the kitchen to grab some more beer. The last thing I'm gonna suggest the next time we all have a free night is playing the FIFA again. But hey, if I win three out four, five out of six or even seven out of 10 you better bet your ass I'm clearing the schedule and saying, hot damn, brutha, when you wanna play again? What do you have going on Monday? I have some vacation time I can blow. Let's do this.
Same with winning a trophy. Win it once, meh, great, good for you. Anyone can win the odd trophy. (The caveat here is, of course, the difference between those who expect to win, are close to winning and those who never actually expect to win but go through the motions anyway. If those lucky bastards stumble upon a trophy then they better go nuclear when they win it because, mama, it ain't happening again anytime soon.) Anyway ... Hey, you pull that trophy in, I'm gonna know what it tastes like, what it feels like ... i'm gonna get that spine tingling sensation.
And I'll want it again. And I'm pretty sure you'll want it again too. So get the fuck in there, Arsenal. Don't learn how to win. Do it, win, so that you want to win again. Because for five years, hey, we know you've been trying but it sure as shit hasn't looked like you really want to win. You've just been hoping you'd win. And like I say, anyone can stumble across a win now and then. if you've the quality, you can probably squeze a few more out than the next guy but ... you gotta really want it if you're gonna win all of it. Savvy?
Right.
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