Obrigado Syndicate Members!
Thanks to each and every last one of you. Thank you for
sharing your time, your wit, and your wagers with me. Thank you for the
privilege of hearing your news. Thank you for graciously filling me in on where
the last year took you. Thank you for having the courage to still remain a part
of this heartfelt project. Twelve years in and 19 Chapters complete, we still
have each other. That means everything. Your friendly bookie once more takes a
blushing bow and exits the stage bursting with pride at what we’ve accomplished
together…and it’s all thanks to you.
Goodbyes Sections always pose a serious challenge,
particularly now that the digital age now enables us to exchange every last
prosaic detail of our pedestrian lives with one another virtually anywhere our
smart phones can catch a WIFI connection. Why must we only congregate at
specified intervals Vicey? Don’t you realize that I can send you photos of that
concert I’m at instead of actually listening to the music?
Anyone catch the seething sarcasm in that last rhetorical
aspersion? Listen to the music, dammit! We all need to take the time to listen
to the music as it pulsates in tandem with the stage lights, appreciate the
many intricate layers of that book we’re reading, share some intimate laughter
with good friends during a night out on the town, and make some seriously
passionate love morning, noon, and night. There’s a time to share with the
world and a time to simply enjoy living in it.
I find the majesty of the World’s Beautiful Game the perfect
excuse to reconnect with all of the brilliant minds I may have lost contact
with over the course of life’s sometimes tedious slog. That’s the beating heart
of the Syndicate: It’s you. All of you are the reason I take a full month off
every year and spend my so-called “vacation time” working the keys so hard. The
month-long journey affords everyone enough time to check in at least once. We
now find ourselves at the end of that journey once again. I am fulfilled by
your participation, touched by your words, and reinvigorated by yet another
adventure that we’ve all undertaken together.
Now it’s time to get back to work. For those Syndicate
Members who have found their place in this world (and that’s literally more of
you every year) work serves as joy and a restorative. Many continue to seek.
Others, unable to do what they truly love, have learned to love what they do.
Some struggle to ward off old demons while others simply stopped feeding the
beasts.
A most amazing aspect of these past twelve years has been
watching such a diverse group of members grow, mature, and get out of their own
way. So many of you have slain every last one of your adolescent dragons and
gone on to find careers, start families, and divine your specific contribution
to the communities and societies in which you live. Your friendly bookie stands
tall and proud behind the dear friends he once described as “the world’s
misfits; the international journeymen of Generation Y”. It’s been a most
soaring spiritual experience…and that’s coming from an adamant atheist. ; )
WE ARE THE SYNDICATE!
For those for whom life continues to adversely accost, there
remains an inexhaustible well of hope. To begin with, there’s an industrious,
diligent, and assiduous Shadow Scholar out there who absolutely won’t allow you
to fail. Whatever doubts assail you or self-inflicted wounds plague you, I will
not allow you to fail. If need be I can pick you up and carry you on my broad
shoulders for a time.
Hope will also always abound for Syndicate Members,
specially selected for their depth and potential. When one seriously assesses
the challenges life throws at you, a majority of them are concoctions of the
weak and petty. We all deal with misery at times and there’s absolutely nothing
wrong with seeking out company in times of distress. Nevertheless, never let
anyone drag you down into some sort of gloomy and tragic fantasy world of pain
and sorrow. Stand tall, members.
There’s the matter of our traditional motivational address.
This dates back to 2010. The Syndicate bids farewell to Summer in a very
specific fashion. Ahem.
“Peace
with the Metric System”
“I
don’t know what to say really. Three minutes to the biggest battle of our
professional lives. All comes down to today. Either we heal as a team, or we’re
going to crumble. 2.54 centimeters by 2.54 centimeters…set piece by set
piece….til we’re finished. We’re in hell right now gentlemen. Believe me.
And…….we can stay here, get the shit kicked out of us, or………..we can fight our
way back…….into the light…….we can climb our way out of hell. 2.54 Centimeters
at a time.
Now I
can’t do it for you. I’m too old. I look around, I see all of these young faces
and think……..I mean……..I’ve made every wrong choice a middle-aged man can make.
I…ah…. pissed away all my money, believe it or not. I chased off anyone who’s
ever loved me. And lately, I can’t even stand the face I see in the mirror. You
know, when you get old in life, things get taken from you…. I mean
that’s…that’s…...that’s part of life. But, you only learn that when you start
losing stuff. You find out life’s this game of 2.54 centimeters. So is
football. Because in either game, life or football, the margin for error is so
small…..I mean…one half a step too late or too early, you don’t quite make it.
One half second too slow, too fast, you don’t quite kick it. The centimeters we
need are everywhere around us! They’re in every break of the game, every
minute, every second.
On
this team, we fight for those 2.54 centimeters. On this team, we tear ourselves
and everyone else around us to pieces for those 2.54 centimeters. We claw with
our fingernails for those 2.54 centimeters! Because, we know when we add up all
those centimeters, that’s gonna make the FUCKIN difference between winnin and losin!!!!!!!!
Between living and dieing!!!
I’ll
tell you this: In any fight, it’s the guy who’s willin to die, who’s gonna win
that 2.54 centimeters. And I know, if I’m gonna have any life anymore, it’s
because I’m still willing to fight and die for those 2.54 centimeters!!!
Because….that’s what livin is!!! The 15.24 centimeters in front of your face!!
Now I
can’t make you do it! You’ve gotta look at the guy next to you. LOOK INTO HIS
EYES!! Now I think you’re gonna see a guy who will go those 2.54 centimeters
with you. I think you’re gonna see a guy who will sacrifice himself for this
team because he knows, when it comes down to it, you’re gonna do the same for
him. That’s a team, gentlemen. And, either we heal, NOW, as a team……..or we
will die…as individuals. That’s football guys. That’s all it is. Now………..WHAT
ARE YOU GOING TO DO?!?!?!?!”
If that doesn’t get you hyped up, your friendly bookie will
gladly put his soul on the table for you. : ) ; ) People can change drastically, and I am living proof of such
transformations.
Prior to the foundation of the Syndicate in the Summer of
2002, Vicey was every bit the antithesis of the man you’ve come to know today.
Our human species is unique in that it takes our offspring a full 18 to 20
years to fully develop into cognitively capable adults. We can breed much
sooner than that, but we’ll distance ourselves from that discussion.
Your friendly bookie barely made it through American High
School as the undisputed worst student in his class. Growing up had simply been
to confusing for him. Born in Germany. Shipped to America. Back to Europe. Back
to America. So it went. Somehow he was always speaking with the wrong accent.
German was his first language, but that made him a ruthlessly mocked oddball in
the USA. He threw away his mother tongue just in time to return to German
School, and be the ruthlessly mocked oddball there as an American.
Thus his “Sociopath Period” turned out to be quite the
prolonged one. Virtually all kids go through a phase characterized by
pathological lying. Using the examples below, you can decide how long yours
lasted. You finally became honest after one of five stages.
Stage One—Parents: “Who broke the lamp?” (ages 3 to 6)
“Not me! It was my younger brother. If not him, ALIENS. It
was aliens, I tell you. ALIENS!”
Stage Two—Parents: “Why aren’t you doing well in school?”
(ages 6 to 8)
“Because my teacher hates me. She also beats me. Yesterday
she flogged me for hours with a horsewhip. It’s all her fault. I’m being
abused.”
Stage Three—School Friends: “What’s your home like?”
(ages 8 to 10)
“Oh we’ve got six pools, three Porsches, a live Bengal
Tiger, and bricks of solid gold. We live in a mansion.”
Stage Three—School Friends: “Have you done something
adult yet” (ages 10 to 14)
“Yep. I’ve already smoked marijuana, drank beer, and gotten
a blowjob.”
Stage Four—School Friends: “Had sex yet?” (ages 14 to 16)
“Of course! The girls line up for a fourteen-year-old
heartthrob like me. They can’t get enough of a kid with a squeaky voice, a
bunch of prominent zits, and a rudimentary understanding of the world. My
current tally is between 50 and 500. I lost count really.”
Stage Five—First Girlfriend: “What was it like for you
growing up?” (ages 16 to 19)
“Well…emerging from the womb with a twelve inch penis and a
halo over my head was certainly trying. Quite the burden to carry; being the
hope of a new generation. Luckily I was able to complete my first novel, deal
with the demands my 35-year-old girlfriend, and shake off my cocaine habit in
time to be the marvelous man that I am today.”
Mercifully….it comes to an end. Some are later bloomers than
others, but it comes to an end for all of us. The trouble with lying is that it
uses up too much of one’s finite supply of energy. To remember each and every
individual “little white one” that one told to each and every individual person
leaves one feeling depleted. The blessings of honesty enable us to focus on who
we truly are, and to expend our energy on the most important task of all: building
deep and long-lasting friendships.
That was your nineteen-year-old friendly bookie’s epiphany a
little over twelve years ago today. His first semester attending U.S.
University had proven little more than an extension of his frustrating primary education
failures. In a small unassuming corner of the LSU Computer Lab, a new man was
born. From that point forward he executed a complete 180-Degree-Shift.
Halcyon days of endless hard work followed and never ceased.
The student who scraped the bottom of his High School class graduated at the
top of his College one. The selfish and self-centered liar who sought only to
demean and belittle others made his first steps toward a life devoted to
helping others across the finish line. The seeds of a Shadow Scholar were
planted.
I do not purport to have always been altruistic over the
past twelve years. Peruse previous “Goodbyes and Championship Pick” Sections
and you’ll find plenty of examples of bitterness, spite, and misdirected hatred
for the World in general. All I wish to convey to any one of my members
currently battling doubt and quandary is that radical change is always
possible. A dramatic shift in perception may take you twelve years to realize,
but that just means it might have already happened ; )
Have I thanked you for sharing this anniversary with me?
Have I told you what a privilege it is to have such a disparate group of
brilliant international friends? There’s hope for all of us yet. Listen to the
music at the concert. Immerse yourself in that book you finally got around to
reading. Make the most passionate of love that you’re body is capable of. Find
a way to enjoy your job.
One last look at the e-mail that changed it all:
WM 2002—“Goodbyes and Championship Pick”
To my dearest friends old and new,
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
Sob. How sweet. Time for a swift walk around the block.
I can scarcely believe that within a few hours we shall
have no excuse to talk to one another. What a tragedy! L
A short month ago I found myself friendless and clinically depressed.
Loneliness cuts deeper than any other adverse emotion, particularly when it
descends upon an eccentric character such as myself. Contact buoys one’s
perspective in so many subtle metaphysical ways. Hearing from every last one of
you has kept me afloat…even those e-mails that respectfully indicated that the
sender had no fucking clue what I was talking about. The World’s Game has
brought us all together, and reminded a soul wandering astray of the undeniable
importance of scope. Such a wide-open realm of possibilities we live in…wide as
the perfectly manicured football pitches I’ve spent the better part of this
summer staring at. The money is appreciated, but all of you have given me
something that is impossible to quantify…you’ve once again revived my
understanding of how incredibly large and complex this earth on which we all
live is. Such a beautiful intricacy! Such a magnificent snafu! It’s filled with
amazing people, all of whom I have privilege to know.
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
Waaaaaahhh! Can’t take it. Need another walk around the
block. Why are we all so distracted? Why is our instinctual reaction to all the
inner-torment to spread more misery around? What fucking good does it do to
drag others down to the level of your insecurity via some petty protectionisms?
Why all the gossip, games, lies, exaggerations, and chest pounding? What
precludes us from reaching out to one another in the spirit of good will and
harmony? Sigh Since none of the questions posed fit the answer of “forty-two”,
I confess to be thoroughly un-enlightened with respect to the deeper quandaries
of the human race. Incidentally, should anyone be interested (which they’re
likely not), these old “Goodbye” sections are excruciatingly painful to
re-read.
The cheers echo all across this continent, through the
heart of Europe, to the Southernmost tips of Africa and South America, all the
way through Eurasia to the cradled islands of the Pacific Ocean. Great show,
Lads. Bravo, boys. Gratitude to all footballers and football fans.
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
Anyone
ever have the feeling that the theme from “Nobody’s Fool” runs on a constant
uninterrupted loop in their head?
The issue of who takes the ultimate prize almost seems
immaterial. Nevertheless we shall press on with the Picks. The final match will
be nothing more than a Pick. All bets are off for a game I wish solely to enjoy
for its own sake. For those of you a little lighter in the billfold, I present
to you the final chance to salvage some scratch:
……
……
……
Supreme Champion of the Football Universe—Germany vs.
Brazil
vs. 
Allow me to reiterate: ALL BETS ARE OFF. A bet against
the Fatherland corresponds to self-mutilation, and not of the chic emo-teenager
kind! We haven’t a chance without Ballack L L
With any luck the earth will be destroyed to make way for a Vogon Hyperspace
bypass and we’ll all cease to be anything but a whiff of hydrogen, absent the
memory of how big a letdown this match was. My heart wilts at the thought of
millions of Krauts getting hysterically drunk, their hopes and enthusiasm
rising in tandem with their Blood-Alcohol content, only to realize that their
team cannot match the spontaneous flair of the Samba Kings and instead settling
on some really unsatisfying sex with a overzealous vamp they had previously
been capable of avoiding. Ugh. Not good times!
None of this precludes us from viewing the Grand Finale
with dreams, aspiration, and the very special sensation that emanates from a
belly full of “liquid courage”. For this reason I obstinately refuse to put my
money where my mouth is. I’d much rather wrap my mouth around a nice, cold tall
one and refrain from thinking about anything so serious as spreads, exchange
rates, and malicious attempts to play mind games with my mates. Let’s all give
the world’s game the fond farewell it deserves. Grab some friends and some
brewskis. Kick the rock around a bit afterward. Mannschaft über Alles!
THE
LINE: Deutschland +1 Goal
….and now we’ll get to the match.
Supreme Champion of the Football Universe—Deutschland vs.
Argentina
vs. 
Have you heard? There’s a football match tomorrow. Not that
us Krauts are in any danger of over-stating our excitement or anything.
….
….
….
….
….
….
….
….
….
….
….
….
….
….
….
....
....
....
....
Mascherano and his torn anus stand little chance of denying
us our fourth star. Your friendly bookie predicts that Klose will get the start
and Schürrle will grab the second half brace.
Okay….at this point I encourage friends of a separate
nationality to prepare for all of the celebratory buffoonery. This time I’m
looking at you….me. What am I doing still awake? I’ve got the time of my life
waiting for me tomorrow!! Here’s your pick.
ALL BETS ARE OFF.
THE
PICK: Deutschland +2 Goals
Enjoy
living your life. Enjoy it for it's own sake. Dance to the music. Appreciate
the painting. Delve deeper into that novel. Make laughter and love as often as
you can. : )
We’ll
meet again. The Syndicate will return. For the time being……
“Go
kick a ball with a stranger”
Seriously…go
kick a ball with a stranger.
--S.S.
P.J.W.
