In life there are many things you cannot choose: you cannot choose your parents, where you are born, even whom you love is a difficult one: against all logic, a man may fall madly in love with some third-rate, cranky, controlling, selfish, unfaithful and evil bitch with a minority complex.
Football is most often a mere reflection of life itself, where a man walks from happiness to sadness, from expectations to disappointments, and as in life itself, you most often do not choose whom you love: you may end up supporting a third rate, violent, defensive, half-corrupt, arrogant piece of shit team that would make the entire world a favour by playing curling.
But they are still whom you love, against all logic. It is simply proof that football is not about logic, but about love.
I am not trying to defend the fact that all teams I support continue without winning shit, and making me frustrated more often than they make me happy. I am trying to understand why I reflect all lack of success in my life in general, against the backdrop of my love-hate relationship to groups of guys who kick a ball around for a living. Hey, or perhaps it is the other way around? A strange inverse law of attraction? Perhaps a loser like me is simply just attracted to a bunch of worthless losing sides…?
But as in life, hope remains: I am still hoping that one day, maybe one single day, I can walk proudly down the street, with my head raised and my team's shirt on, knowing that on that very day, I was victorious.