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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