Sometimes there is so much, too much, to write about, talk about, think about…and this is one of those times. I’ve painted myself into a corner (again) after all these years1 and faced with everything I have to and should be talking about, thinking about, and writing about, I turn my back to it all and stand in the corner, head in my hands, not sobbing exactly, but hoping desperately for some magical supercar to fly in and pluck me from the corner I’ve painted myself into.
So I’m not going to write about Chelsea’s 0-0 draw with Dynamo Kyiv yesterday in the Champion’s League or Juventus’s 0-0 draw with Borussia Mönchengladbach today in the Champions League. Ditto Arsenal’s upset win over Bayern München yesterday or Man City’s win at the death on a Kevin DeBruyne goal today over Sevilla.
Those are among the many topics and ghostly moonlight and magnificent sunshine beating down on my back as I cower in my corner and wait and wait and wait while shadows of NASCAR creep along the wall with a sudden, gruesome fearfulness. Joey Logano as a mummified corpse zombie snaps the crypt-keeper Matt Kenseth aside as a chilling howl hisses through the air.
I feel the breath on my neck of Norwich City’s 6-2 beat down by a pig-biting mad and desperate Newcastle and bury my head deeper in my hands while a vision of Ellen DeGeneres and Aaron Rodgers as shit lookalikes crawls across my brain.
Clearly, I need a way out of this corner so I can get back on the track to vision and insight instead of the free fall into voyeurism and glazed bewilderment.
I suppose, if I had the mental fortitude and strength of a butcher’s dog, 2 I might never have painted myself into this corner to begin with. But there’s no sense in painting THIS corner into another corner…that would be like putting a nested DO loop inside of a nested DO loop.
So how much longer must I stand in this corner, punished in the way a sassy, petulant child would be punished?
What is my way out? Pen a 500 word or less essay about Astana, the only team from Kazakhstan competing in the European Champions League? I think that, among all the above and everything else hovering over my shoulder and breathing down my neck is what got me painted into this corner to begin with.
Well alright. Here goes.
Astana lost today to Atlético Madrid 4-0 at the Estadio Vincente Calderón in Madrid on a own goal by Denis Dedechko, and goals by Jackson Martinez, Saúl, and Óliver Torres. The End.
And what do you know…?
Here comes my car. I’m saved at last. It’s a 1975 Toyota Celica, but it will get me out of here