Dreaming Gunner, Premier League #18 Tottenham

Soccer has invaded my repast! Two weeks in a row I have been awakened for a game from a dream about Champions League. I was watching the highlights of the first leg with my friend Kody in a giant, trendy version of Nevada Smith's. Now, I should have realized it was a dream when Real Madrid somehow beat Juventus, but I really a should have realized it was a dream when a Barca player's long range shot was blocked by a Gryphon. 

That's right, a mythical creature with the body of a lion and the head and wings of an eagle (who apparently was picked up in the transfer window by Celtic) leaped up and made a beautiful deflection which sadly bounced off another Gryphon and landed in the net. Did I wake up? No. I simply turned to Kody and we carefully critiqued the half-breed creature's poor defense. 

That's when I woke up. Crazy. 

Or was it?

Now in the world of the conscious, I hustled to where "football is religion" with Jakes. Here is his smiling face and my fatty mug for your pleasure.

 

I am very disturbed by my likeness to Big Sam Allardyce. 

Anyway, we got there and, I have to say, I was blown away by the size and vigor of the Gooner faithful considering the 7:45 call time. Songs were being sung, beers were being hoisted, Adebayor was being bashed. In short, it was business as usual and not long before my voice was shot.

This happened almost immediately as I took my first toss of Bass and launched a thundering "What do you think of Tottenham?" After this boisterous, yet potty-mouthed announcement, I looked down to see a small child no older than 7 or 8 looking up at me with those wide eyes of curiosity and a big smile. I was immediately ashamed, but this feeling was replaced by questions such as: Why is this child standing in a crowded bar at 8 am? Who brought this tiny miracle to the bar? Are they the worst parent/guardian ever known? Or the greatest Gooner fans in the known world? Who can say? I, for one, advise keeping your little ones out of a forest of morning drunkards who love to yell and insult people's mothers for yucks. Being an Adult is weird.

To my credit, "What do you think of Tottenham?" does teach children a valuable lesson in courteous conversation as I not only thanked my fellows but received a hearty "You're welcome" in reply. Yeah.

After that it was all futbol though. Mt. Sinai and her ready posse were there along with a man I know only as "Tommy" (on account of his Rosicky shirt) He is a loud and proud Gunner who has a passion for his songs. I name this fellow my Fan of the Match as he pulled off a fine "Red White Army" cheer, which takes a true fan to do right. Also, we had a gas with Elias (pictured) and many others.

Someday, when more than my three friends read this blog, I will know all these peoples names.

By far the best part of the day was not Fabregas' angelic back heel, or even Bendtner's unsaveable power-header, but Manuel Almunia's coming out party when the blonde, winged Gryphon picked it right and slammed the door on the first Hotspur derby win in years. Strangely, I never felt that this game was in jeopardy. Even when Robbie Keane was given a free pass at killing Gunners around the world, I just always had this positive feeling that can only come from being surrounded by good fans, and filled with good beer. 

Well done Gooners in Exile. You made my very, very long day.

P.S. I work with a ManU fan who has told me for the ninth or tenth week this year that my Arsenal is "so lucky". My response to this is to say that everyone gets lucky, but if you get lucky every week, then it's not really luck anymore. 

Keep grasping at straws.

-Mark