Thursday, 17 May 2012

The Flaming Flamingoes (Part 2)

A lot of fouls in today's soccer games were never considered as fouls in my day, they were considered part of the game, if you don't hop out of the way of a wicked kick in those days and you got caught, tough, you just had to grin and bear it, some spectators even considered it hilariously funny if you ended up rolling about on the ground in agony, especially if the foul was committed discreetly. So whenever I ended up on the wrong end of a tackle which usually hurt a lot, the last thing I wanted to show, was my agony. I may wince a little and limp for the remainder of the match but would never give our opponents the satisfaction of letting them know they hurt me. The best revenge, would be to finish the match as winners, which happened often.  

In a fifty, fifty situation when the foul actually was blatant, the benefit of the doubt was usually given to the defender that clumsily tackled you and it was never viewed as intentional which in a lot of cases, it was. If you complained, they made fun of you. For example if you yelled foul in an attempt to get the referee's attention, some spectators and even a few opposing players would yell back, you mean fowl, insinuating you were chicken, so it was best not to say anything and just get on with your game. You also had to remember that there were maybe about a dozen other guys who had their eyes on your shirt and would happily see you hurt and stretchered off, which would increase their own chances of getting into the team.

I have often overheard coaches, managers and supporters advising the defenders of  the teams they support to hurt the most talented players within the opposition and get them stretchered off or intimidate them in order to increase their team's chances of winning. One of the most common phrases in those days was "if you miss the ball, don't miss his leg". So playing competitive soccer in my day could be very risky indeed.

On this particular match day, it was only after I arrived on the field to play this friendly match that I was informed that Joe Giwa would be playing for the opposing team. Now big Joe used to play for us, he was a strong defender and he usually took pleasure in using his size to intimidate opponents. Apart from his size, this guy can play but if you got the better of him once too often, watch out, he will find a way to somehow cramp your style and put you completely off your game. I wasn't too worried though because Joe wasn't a malicious player, a little clumsy maybe, but never malicious. Also we had played on the same side before so we both knew each other's strengths and weaknesses.

What happened to me was this, I got slide tackled by Joe and as I was falling, this big fellow had his arms wrapped around my shoulders from behind and I basically fell with both our weights on my outstretched left arm. Some survival instinct within me made me roll both our bodies in a direction that I didn't sustain a break at the elbow, but I heard the cartilage bone in my left elbow make a cracking sound. The agony was indescribable.

By the time this big oaf got off me, my left arm had swollen massively. I didn't care if anyone saw me crying, I was bawling my eyes out. Ten minutes later, I was in a cab heading for the hospital but I never imagined that when we got there, I would be admitted and would have to spend a few days in this remote hospital which was exactly what happened.

(To be continued)



Sunday, 13 May 2012

'Bodederek link

'Bodederek This is my link to the cloud (i.e. Soundcloud) people. One click and you're there! Enjoy, it's All Pleasure and No Pain! Lots of stuff coming your way. I just don't know whether to assail your senses all at once or give it up in little doses like the most effective medicines. Whichever way I decide, it will be done with a lot of love and understanding.

Stay cool and watch out for "Kalakuta Tales" it is coming to this Blog page shortly!

I have set up a group on Soundcloud called "The Shakatu Brigade" where we will explore the most relevant concepts and sounds group members feel needs developing.

The site should explain itself better than I can do here!



The Flaming Flamingoes!

Flaming Flamingoes: A football Story 

We called ourselves the flaming flamingoes and happened to be the most exciting seven a side team of our era. This was a team dear to my heart because I conceived, planned and with the help of a few friends, made it happen. 

I was already a member of a senior team of semi-professional players, but that only made me a small part of a bigger team which I felt privileged to belong to as I was very young and liked the attention and look of awe my playing provoked in the eyes of the spectators.

I was never a humble player, I was a stubborn one, and because of my demeanour the older boys would try to hurt me by committing various wicked tackles and fouls on me. The harder they chopped at me, the more determined I was to make them look stupid. It worked for me a lot of the time and there have been a lot of guys who quit playing altogether because I made them look so clumsy, some even lost their chicks after they revealed on the football field what wicked souls they really were. I must admit also that there were many a days I also considered quitting because of the agony caused me by some wicked chops I never saw coming.

Playing with older guys can be fun sometimes, but not always, as you tend to be the one they love to order around and you end up in the position of one guy saying one thing and the other guy saying the exact opposite. You can imagine what happens if we lose a match, yes, I get blamed for it! The senior guy that would vehemently bully me out of my position would never admit to his error and being the little kid, I would have to suffer the consequences, until next time.

It was Solly that asked me one day why I was putting up with all that nonsense from these guys that I had worked so hard to keep in some tough games, where we came from behind to achieve a virtual impossibility. Worse was the fact that none of them ever stuck up for me when members and supporters of the other team would threaten and intimidate me prior to a match in attempts to put me off my game and demoralise.

Two regional trophies and a runners-up medal in a third was proof of the effectiveness of the senior team I played for, but after the match has become a distant memory, credit for our achievements never ever came my way and people who never contributed to our team or it's success were sometimes given privileges they didn't deserve. All of these I put up with until the day I suffered an injury that put me in hospital.

(To be continued)



The Laziest Writer

On The Planet Is sitting up in his bed. His mind is in a turmoil, whirring in a hundred different directions all at once. H...