Transfer Window nightmare- please save me
Football is my first passion in life, so as you can imagine, with the new season still over a month away, I’m currently in a terrible malaise. However I’m coping, well I was until I had a severe mental meltdown today, please let me explain why.
It’s the football transfer window you see. This biannual event looms like the spectre of death over my cranial functions. I can’t escape. Like a fly caught in a spider’s web I’m stuck, lord knows how much I want to escape.
As I sit here, it’s haranguing my conscience, the ifs, and buts and maybes; along with the conjecture and speculation gives my brain a humanistic big-bang.
Take today for instance. A day that delivered Carlos Tevez and possible Emmanuel Adebayor to Manchester City, the unveiling of Michael Owen as United’s latest number seven and Fergie’s proclamation that his transfer dealings are over.
That’s a lot to process in itself, but the fallout has to be consumed, chewed and processed. And in this case there’s a lot to be processed.
Tevez crossing city allegiances from United to City
The latest instalment of the Adebayor show, coming to a screen near you
A Scouser wearing United’s number seven jersey
No big name players to replace Tevez and Ronaldo
All of this leaves me wishing for the season to start. I can’t stand this interminable period of rumours, if I had my way I’d shut down the media over the transfer window and leave followers of the beautiful game to sit out their footballess summers in peaceful isolation.
However, I am a hypocrite: I know that come tomorrow I’ll begin my morning routine with an unconscious search of Sky Sports and the Guardian sports pages.
And yet despite how much I hate myself for wasting huge periods of my day perusing these sites I know deep down that the little nuggets of transfer gossip sustain my football addiction at a time when footballaholics up and down the country are fighting their demons.