It’s clear by now that sports are not my strong point. Despite my steady performance in fantasy football so far, I’m still a bit shaky. However, when problems arise, I’ve found that the easiest way for me to relate to fantasy football is to compare the situations to things that I’ve experienced. This is clear from the shoe anecdote I posted earlier – the offside rule works so much better when I can visualise those gorgeous TopShop pumps I want.
While I am doing quite well, I can’t deny that something feels wrong. I’ve moved from third to fourth in the league and have pinpointed the problem. Much as I hate to admit it, one of my players was not up to scratch. I thought it was going alright, but upon further scrutiny, all was not well. I thought things looked funny. Others were constantly getting points, but Ryan Giggs’s score remained firmly at zero.
Rejection, both giving and receiving, is rough. Ever since I had to break up with my first boyfriend in Stephen’s Green, I knew I wasn’t cut out for dumping people. Public tears are not pretty, but, like then, I knew something had to change. Again, relating back to things I know, you can’t stay in a relationship that is stultifying and unrewarding. Nothing works when you’re not getting anything out of it. Let’s be fair, I’m not in this for the charity but for the pure glory. While I may have admired Giggs for being an older man in a young buck’s game, this just isn’t working. It’s not me, Ryan, it’s you.
It was hard, but I knew I had to do it. I had to awkwardly stand in the metaphorical park, look into Giggs’ puppy dog eyes and say, “No, I’m sorry, this just isn’t working. I’ve tried. I really have. I’ve put so much of myself into this. I feel like I’ve worked so hard and you’re giving nothing. I can’t keep doing this. Do you know how stressful editing news is? I just can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry. I thought older men were the way to go, but they’re just not. You’re rubbish, you never play and you’re a rubbish kisser, I mean, you don’t get any points. We can stay friends of course, but you just can’t be on Team News anymore.” Then as I clasp his hand and wipe away his torrents of tears, I’ll slowly stroke his face, look away and begin to leave the imaginary sphere of rejection.
Well, that’s the hard part over. I’ve never been one to grieve. Onwards and upwards! Just like I did with my first boyfriend, I’ve moved on quickly from Ryan Giggs. He was old and useless anyway. James Milner is my new man and was the exact price of Giggs, plus my 1.1 surplus. It’s like fate! He’s so new and shiny. Wikipedia tells me that he is tenacious and he’s from Aston Villa, so he’ll fit in quite well with my defenders. While Google Images show that Milner is really not my type, I really think this is the start of something beautiful. It’s like a new relationship, so full of promise. You forget about when you swore off of men and embrace the new adventure of it all. I’ll let you all know when I get angry with him and revert back to being in a committed threesome relationship with Grey’s Anatomy on the Observer Mac and a packet of Buffalo Hunky Dorys.
As a quick aside, The University Observer has also been engaging in fantasy Six Nations. We’re stupidly competitive. Because I have no television in my poky flat, I can’t watch the matches, so for real and proper girl analysis of our fantasy adventures, catch editor Catriona Laverty’s blog here!