Yesterday was a momentous day for me. I should have had no reason to beg excuses. The football team, which I’ve supported all my life, were playing a final on Wembley’s hallowed turf. It was a match that I wanted to watch, but, thanks to the vagaries of modern global marketing of television rights, I was forced to play a round of golf with two doctors instead. I never knew the drama of the match as it unfolded. Again, globalisation made it nigh impossible for me to track the match via the Internet. The cost of roaming is too prohibitive. Had I stayed in the swanky clubhouse at the golf course, I could have used their wifi connection to get Internet access. Instead, I was getting stuck in sand chasing a small coloured ball.
When I’d finished with the neurosurgeon and the spine surgeon, I checked my news feed. My team had won the final. I then took a stroll through history, Internet-style. I went back through tweets from before the match, so replayed events 140 characters at a time. I will bore you only with some highlights. At half-time, the score was 0-0. Near the 65th minute, my team had a player ejected; so played the last quarter of the match with 10 men, versus 11. After 90 minutes, the score was still 0-0. I thought that we had won on penalty kicks: not my liking, but take it. But, no. About two minutes into added time, Bobby Zamora scored. What!?
I am sure that I would’ve needed at least two changes of underwear had I seen this live, and maybe a defibrillator. One of the team greats, Rodney Marsh, who was in attendance, tweeted ‘Destiny’.
So, QPR will be back in the English Premier League next season, after only a season away. I know of at least one other Jamaican who supports QPR; I met him on his holiday here last year.
Last week, Jamaicans who follow English teams, were alight because ‘their’ team had won or not the EPL. I’m going to presume that few, if any, would follow those teams if they were not in the EPL. They would flee like rats on a sinking ship. Their waggons only have pull when they’re on the high road. In the ditch? See ya!
All of the emotional energy I have, would have been spent had I seen the match.
I really wanted to write about what the case of Brendan Bain has told me about Jamaicans. But, in part, I won’t because someone has said all I wanted to on it already, and with elegant simplicity. Read yesterday’s letter in the Gleaner about his falling on his sword. The baying and partial presentation in the mainstream media on this topic really showed the colours of some people. That’s not really a surprise when emotions get raised. But, I was more bothered by some of the blinkered views. Some of that was like the Jamaican EPL fan, partisan, without really going deeply into the history of why they should be so. Anyway, I leaving that subject. “Let your meat stop your mouth,” and old man used to say.
I’m saving emotional energy for a day of more finals, when Jamaican athletes go for more wins at the IAAF World Relays. They left nothing behind last night, with a world record in the 4×200 metres relay, anchored by Yohan Blake, while Usain Bolt had not been on the team.
Awesome! Beastly. I will there again, in my national colours of gold, surrounded by a sea of aquamarine last night. Today, the hosts will wear gold, so I shall don black and green. I’ll stay seated on the waggon that I’ve ridden all my life.