Football’s something like a fairy tale; some of it rooted in reality, but the overwhelming majority lying behind the scenes.
For comparison purposes, take Little Red Riding Hood and her mano a mano with the Big Bad Wolf. Seems fitting, right? I lupi and all that nonsense.
Well, this wolf finds a nice little piece of…riding hood and decides he’s interested in a meal. This girl, not up on the ways and means of the wolf, tells the baddy she’s off to grandma’s cottage, giving him explicit directions. She's not too bright, this girl. The wolf cunningly diverts here for a bit so he can head off into the woods; he finds grandma’s pad and enjoys himself a nice hors d’oeuvre, undressing her before hand, adding a nice sexual element to this children's story. He then lies in wait, dressed as nonna, licking his lips. Or gums, because that’s all wolves seem to flash outside of those menacing incisors.
The girl shows, banter ensues - she's rightly skeptical - and the Big Bad engulfs the entree, presumably with a mango chutney. A hunter finds the messy post-meal scene, guts the wolf and pulls Ridin’ Hood out of the wolf’s gullet. Still alive and all her problems now solved, they fill the wolf's stomach with rocks and he done died from the worst case of kidney stones known to mankind. After he was sutured. Or something.
The moral of the story is…I don’t really know. Don’t go into the woods without a sixer of mace, assault rifles and GPS enabled on your mobile?
Now, this is a fairy tale and there are certain details which are, shall we shall, fucking impossible. But you know what always bugged me about this story? He ate that bitch. You just can’t come back from that.
Time for a rewrite.
Once upon a time there was a little girl.
No one loved this little girl, but she managed to find a red riding hood somehow. Tossed in the trash, perhaps, this riding hood was very special, as the back was adorned with a bullseye.
One day LRRH's mother sent her with some booze to her grandmother's, a cranky old coot with a vicious cameltoe and an alarming propensity for spreading her legs for the fellas at such an age (particularly those of the big Albanian variety).
On the way she met a wolf. A Big Bad Wolf. So bad it earned capitalization.
This wolf saw a weak and vulnerable creature enwrapped by a false sense of security in the form of this bright, red cloak. Only strangely enough, this cloak didn't fit. In fact, it was clearly not made for Little Red Riding Hood; more as though she was wearing her father's jacket. "Who's your daddy?", the wolf asked.
And there in the woods they had a stop and chat until the hammer crashed down.
Big Bad asked for directions to grandmother's house and the little girl obliged. "It's over there", she said.
The wolf then convinced the little girl to head into the woods, off the beaten path, to pick some flowers. This was the story, anyway. The truth is the little girl mosied into the solitude of the wood to a far off clearing in order to take part in a time honored tradition amongst this little girl's people.
The wolf then sprinted full speed to the grandmother's home, gobbled her up and climbed in her clothing as disguise, patiently awaiting Little Red Riding Hood.
Lying there the wolf seemed meek, almost harmless. Missing the triggered effects of a glaring snarl, almost as though he'd left a few fangs at home - incisors named Totti and Juan, perhaps. This was not the picture of strength, but the picture of feigning weakness because he had strength within.
And then little red riding hood, long exhausted from a furious romp in the clearing, showed up to grandma's house. She made her way up to her grandmother's bedroom, asked a few questions and then...and then...
You know what happens in real life if a small girl confronts a big ass wolf?
That bitch gets eaten. The hunter doesn't show, the girl never climbs out of the wolf's belly - mostly because she's spilling blood all over the oriental - the townfolk never hear her screams, and the world forgets about Little Red Riding Hood and her whole entire clan. Again. Big bad wolves get hungry and they feed on the weak which surrounded them. The end.
Because a wolf lying in disguise is still a goddamn wolf, and that will never change.