My Burden To Carry

So okay ooo. . .Its close to 3am. in the morning and here I am cheering and chiding fellows across the atlantic. I haven't met them before, and my patronage of what they do has ensured they will never have to worry about money the rest of their lives. . . .well, the smart ones at least. They are basketball players with an average annual gross of 3million bucks. At my current rate, money I might not be able to accumulate throughout my working lifetime.

Worse, I do this nightly ritual every other week to the detriment of my well planned, well thought out timetable (Iro nla), errm maybe I do not have a well thought out, well planned timetable, but my nocturnal tradiition sure isn't helping my acquiring one. Other costs are an abused voice box, countless moody sessions and nary a few tears to boot.

So why this this this this obsession not only with basketball, but american football, sometimes baseball, Real Football, Tennis, Rugby(my current fave), Tennis, Cricket, Golf. . . . . . .in fact, any sport, I am good to go.

I have tried to rationalise it myself. ''Normal'' people take on sport and indulge themselves without too much of a rupture to their daily routines. They pick one side and stick to it more often than not their lifetime. But nay, not our manpassman. I switch sides as much as a lion king costume carousel often for the most arbitrary reasons: He cheats on his wife, well he deserves to lose; he cheats on his wife but get off his back already so he must win; he is too handsome and yet wants to add sporting feathers to his cap. He has to lose na; He or she is black. Should win; He or she is too black. Should lose. And the list goes on and on and on. Almost schizophrenic you might say.

But I wouldn't have it any other way. Sports gives me more joy than anything in the world. It allows for temporary relief from reality while still dropping nuggets of wisdom about human behaviour, though fat lot of good that had done for me.

Oh well. Its my burden sha. And I don't see it getting any lighter soon.

Cometh the Man. . . .Cometh the Bigger Man

Well Well Well. . . . .I am now officially a blogger. Well, at least until I actually post this little kini I am writing now. Oh by the way, don't mind the title. My delusions of literary grandeur. Thought it sounded nice and all, and come on you must admit, it is evidence of no little wit.

Ermmm. . .So this is like some kinda welcome. Welcome to the world of Manpassman. I promise nothing special, not because I am not too big on my talents, but because over the years I have found out reality goes in diametrically opposition to how I want it to go. So for example, if I say 'I will be making a thousand pounds in the stock markets over the next month, it is often the case, I will probably end up losing a thousand betting on Man United to lose ( my view on United: The Evil Empire that requires obliteration). But on the other hand, if I see a great looking girl and think ''jeez. . .I have no chance'', by some miracle of the cosmos, I usually end up shagging said girl.

So my viewpoint on life, cynical and virulently pessimistic, has been shaped over the years by these experiences. Well, my outward viewpoint, the one I display to people. But, Deep Deep Deep inside that place they call the soul, I am a shameless romantic optimist who loves the film Pretty Woman, wishes he had the family life of David Beckham and still dreams of a football career and salary though the big three-oooooo is just around the corner.

I guess this inveterate optimist explains why my life is. . . . .You know what, I think I have said enough for a first post. More about my life later.