I've dipped my toes into the murky waters of Gaelic football. As always with field sports I wasn't looking forward to it. I was worried about reliving my PE days of standing on a field, looking out of place with a cold sense of shame creeping over me after my latest failure in catching /throwing/ running/jumping. I went for the exercise and consoled myself with the thought that we are in Spain surely they can't be that good either (they were very good). It turned out to be great fun. I had no idea how gaelic football works, literally nothing. I have never played rugby but I know what it looks like, I have absolutely no idea how gaelic football looks let alone the rules. I have learnt many things about the game. You play on a rugby field and if you kick the ball over the rugby posts you get one point. You get three points for kicking the ball under the posts, theres a goalkeeper so it's harder. There's 15 on a team, you play with a football and the contact is halfway between football and rugby. Every four steps you have to either bounce the ball on the ground and catch it or drop the ball onto your foot and kick it back into your hand. Kicking the ball into your hand is tricky, but not as tricky as if the ball is on the floor, you have to touch the ball with your foot first before picking it up, its very hard not to fall on your face. The people were all lovely, I did manage to kick the ball square into the captains stomach from point blank range. I apologized again and again as he was bent double gasping for air and telling it was fine in broken English. I don't think it was.
My passing improved and I even scored a point in a sporting moment worthy of a Rocky film. In my mind there was a moving classical score and it went all black and white as the ball sailed majestically over the bar and between the posts. Though its fair to say I'm not the next insert name of gaelic football star here
Though it was a lot of fun, let's be clear its not as good as proper football. Sunday was a proper football day. In the evening Marc (with a c!) and myself went down to watch Osasuna vs Valencia. We didn't have a ticket and picked one up from a less than official source, a fat dentist. He made me hold his stuff as he used his season ticket to get us in and then told us we didn't strictly have a seat and pointed to the steps. We sat down like naughty children on the cold stone steps waiting to be thrown out but instead we were joined on the steps by more people, we had a little group, we eat seeds and we laughed, oh how we laughed. If that wasn't strange enough the game was one of the most eventful games I have ever seen.
Before the game started David Villa was getting abuse so while everyone else went to get ready he stood alone on the pitch smashing balls into the crowd. The game started and within 15 minutes the Valencia goal keeper was booked for throwing things that had been thrown at him back into the crowd. After some critical comments in the week the Valencia manager was subject to an incredible amount of abuse. On the pitch Valencia are just a million times better than Osasuna in every way, as footballers, as lovers, as men. David Villa scored a great goal and by the 55th minute Valencia were 3-0 up. The Osasuna keeper got himself lobbed, twice. It was then that it all kicked off. Carlos Marchena, the cheat, went down like a whore and got Osasuna player Walter Pandiani sent off. The place went mental. The crowd started to whistle so loudly I honestly couldn't hear Marc next to me. Then everyone whipped out white handkerchiefs and started to wave them in the air. Hundreds and hundreds of white handkerchiefs were waved to protest the referee. In the next few minutes the linesman was showered from whatever the crowd had to hand. Osasuna still found time to get another player sent off and introduce a striker who may be so bad as to be on par with K Liz. However, the best was yet to come.
At the end of the game a young kid ran onto the pitch to David Villa to ask for his shirt. A steward started to chase the kid. This steward was massive he was out of breath just thinking about chasing the kid but he did his best. The kid outrun him and the next SEVEN stewards. It was like something from Home Alone, the crowd was 'oleing' with every spin, duck and weave. The eight of them eventually got him to the sound of thousands of people booing. I have the image of a father looking around "wheres Juan?" and then looking onto the pitch "shit".
Lessons are fine, it's exam time, nothing expresses hate like the look in a childs eyes when you tell them its time for an exam. I also have to write reports in Spanish..... muchas problemas.
I hope you are happy and dandy, tell me of your life. Looking forward to seeing you all at Christmas.
love love love x
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