Unattainable Goals

When I am in the gym, I sit stretching on the mats. Straight opposite me, stuck on the wall, is a really large telly. Now this thing is set to ‘Dance Nation’ all the time. Maybe it’s broken? I am subjected to writhing females in skimpy attire while I condition my body and generally work up a sweat. It is a slightly jarring experience. I don’t need to engage in strenuous physical activity while Beyonce shakes her arse at me from the other side of a tv screen. I feel like a horse chasing a carrot on a string that it’s never going to reach. After watching Wednesday nights champions league offering and musing on what happened I figured that’s what Barcelona felt like. They could see the goal, they could get near the goal, they could have the ball all they wanted, but the goal itself was the equivalent of Beyonce. A permanent fixture on some other plane of existence.

Barcelona will get to reverse the situation and welcome Chelsea to their stadium next Tuesday. I however will not get to reverse the situation, which would infact be one where Beyonce watches music videos of me gyrating while she stretches in some gym. And anyways, how creepy would that be?

In the Camp Nou we all expect Barca will proceed to load up the goal canons and fire at will for ninety minutes. In doing so, they will have reached their goal. I however will still not have breached that shiny divide between the world of Beyonce music videos and where I do my stretches in my gym. The world is a cruel place but at least I know it.

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