Dearest Friends,
The sentimental address is upon us. Your friendly bookie
confesses that each year’s missive contains many iterations that, however eloquently
stated, emphasize an elementary theme. Namely, we keep this book as a means of
providing a cheerful and amusing distraction for ourselves as we pass through
the “Sad Veil of Tears” known as life.
Those possessing mental wiring amenable
to nebulous spiritual distortions have little difficulty imbuing life with
meaning and purpose. For them the schlep can be easily structured into a
sententious journey strewn with salient lessons. Hermit writers like myself and
Syndicate Member 88-M find adjusting our thinking in such a proscribed way an
arduous and defeating task. Hence, we reach out to one another and occupy
ourselves with tasks such as a long letter to his budding-writer son:
Since I’ve broached the concept of “spiritual distortions”,
it seems an apt topic to use as this year’s theme. The season of “Friends and
Football” touches many of us in what may be described as a spiritual way. Your chronicler
generally rejects such concepts as confused temporal nonsense, but the Great
Global Unity Festival does make him reconsider. When it comes down to it all things spiritual
are but illusions with varying degrees of sophistication. Various Eastern
Religions and Buddhist Sects label the whole world and life itself as an illusory
dream from which we will one day awaken. Sounds nice, but your friendly bookie
has come to the conclusion that such philosophies are very likely every bit the
crock of shit as the Abrahamic God; maybe even more so.
Life remains all that is that truly real, and it’s nothing
resembling easy. We all know this. A tournament such as this one provides us
with a much needed break. The World Cup affords us all we require to feel connected
with all our fellows that this schlep through life with us. The passion. The
power. The pressure. Colorful flags, songs, and chants. Unforgettable historic moments
of celebratory joy and humility associated with being but a very small part of
it all.
Then there’s the tears and the pain on the faces of the
players and fans who fall short of the goal.
The configuration of the tournament itself mirrors the raw,
real, and cruel nature of life itself. Dreams can die in a random instant,
irrespective of how much hard work and preparation one has put in. Pushing
oneself to the absolute limit of physical and mental exertion most often isn’t
enough. Neither the game of football nor the game of life remains under any
obligation to reward your efforts. The vast majority of what we do goes unsung and
unnoticed. Random bounces, breaks, circumstances, and luck determine who will be
crowned and remembered and who will be lost and forgotten.
Each year the most active Syndicate Members are invariably
those who find themselves in something of a personal or professional rut. As
always, this Sportsbook remains dedicated to them above all others It’s a
pleasure and privilege to spend more of my time reconnecting with such members
as I know firsthand how sad and lonely such despairing times can be. Your
friendly (and highly empathetic bookie) is all too familiar with the crushing
and suffocating pain of rejection and expulsion. Throughout our lives we exert tremendous
energy towards the aim of belonging to one house or another. Times when we find
ourselves exhausted, depleted, and in between houses are the most trying.
Nothing hurts more than learning that the cold reality that
one once again finds oneself unwelcome, unwanted, and shunned from a house one
worked so hard to call home. Fighting the “Good Fight” consumes a large portion
of one’s mental capacity, and there’s little comfort to be derived from the
fact that life has few rewards for even the most persistent “Warriors of the
Light”. Each successive time we get cut alone and adrift leaves us feeling
fearful, abandoned, and directionless.
I love you, brothers. You are not alone. You’ll always be
welcome in this house.
And…..you’ll never watch alone ; )
Some would promise you that a true Warrior of the Light (“Krieger
des Lichts” for Germans and Silbermond fans) can never truly fail. You friendly
bookie makes no such promises. Failure happens all the time. The reason for
fighting on lies not in the outcome, but the fight itself. We also have no
choice. The clock ticks down on our ephemeral existence no matter how we feel
about it. Life remains meaningless unless we imbue it with meaning. It also
comes to a terminus that completely erases all that we were forever.
To my knowledge there’s no known antidote to life’s many
heartbreaking doldrums, other than to keep moving and remain occupied at all
costs. As easily as one can think oneself into a depressive funk, it remains
impossible to think oneself out of it. Action is necessary even if it’s that of
a clumsily painful sort. Think of a German guy attempting to dance. It a’int exactly
pretty, but at least he’s trying.
An arc we began traversing back in the Group Preview Section
again passes the latus rectum: Dance. Dance through life as best you can. That’s
all you can do, even if—like most Germans—you really can’t.
There’s no option but to keep trying to dance until it’s our
time to “Dance with the Macabre”.
Yes….I’m a goddamned German…and learning how to dance is a
lifelong effort ;)
Time for “Peace with the Metric System”, gentlemen.
“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 dying!!!
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?!?!?!?!”
Supreme
Champion of the Football Universe—
France vs. Croatia
vs. 
Been back and forth on this one several times. The Blazers
can absolutely pull it off if they play pound-for-pound in the midfield and
frustrate Pogba immediately. As I’ve said repeatedly in the Dailies, Deschamps
would do well to feign some sort of injury for Giroud. No one falling for this “He
draws coverage” farce anymore. I’m still confounded by the fact that the
Belgians let them get away with this canard. Don’t double mark him! He’s slow
and too heavy on the ball! Swarm Pogba instead!
We’ve seen so much inconsistency from Les Bleaus over the
course of the tournament, but I somehow think they’ll get it right this time.
It won’t be easy, but their superior creative talent will break through
eventually. The Croatian “Old Dogs” are magnificent workhorses. They won’t
prove easy for Kante, Hernandez, and Pogba to deal with initially. At a certain
point, however, I don't believe that they’ll have enough ideas left to generate
forward impetus. The lateral strategy that they used to torch the English late
on also won’t work against a more traditional formation featuring younger and
better rested players.
Ze French have too much talent to contain. I’ll aver that
players like Griezman and Pogba have been saving their best moves for this
match. They know full well how to better pace and prepare themselves after
misallocating and ultimately frittering away the European crown on home soil.
I know I picked the wrong team to win the Euros two Summers
ago, but we’ll go with them here.
We’ll even recycle the instructions.
A MESSAGE TO ALL MY FRENCH FRIENDS
Mes Ames. You better be prepared to celebrate!
Célébrer!
A second star will look very nice above that rooster. Vive
la Republic!
ALL BETS ARE OFF
THE
PICK: France +1 Goal
Enjoy living your life. Enjoy it for its
own sake. Dance to the music. Appreciate the painting. Delve deeper into that
novel. Make laughter and love as often as you can. Live lionhearted or
don’t bother living at all
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.
