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Fake Sports Guy

The world cup is here. Once every four years, I like to sit and watch the football. I’m not big into football, you see, but I am in love with World Cup season.

I find myself walking into pubs, looking for groups of friends who want to watch the football. The place is dark, the game is in the early afternoon, most people are at work. The barman is cleaning a glass off to one side. As I poke around, looking for the people I’m to meet, he asks, “You here for the match?”

“Yeah.”

He jerks his chin upward, “Upstairs lad.”

“Thanks.”

As I go to walk past, he says, “Who do you reckon has it?”

“Oh,” I reply, flustered. “I think Chile is in with a shot.”

“Haha, really?” His laugh is mostly a sneer, “Paying attention to the CPD, were you?”

“The CPD?”

“The Chilean Primera División, keeping an eye on the players?”

“I don’t-”

“Don’t tell me, you missed it because you were up late the previous night watching the Columbian Categoría Primera A? Or was it the Bolivian Copa Simón Bolívar? I always get mixed up between that and the Guyana GFF National Super League…”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know-”

“No, you don’t know. You just flounce in here like you own the place. Poets and all sorts, you don’t belong here. You make me sick, you fake sports guys.”

 

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    "The problem with Arsenal is that they always try and walk it"
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