The better part of this transfer season has been spent waking up each morning and savagely consuming fingernails while reading whether Mata and Banega have been scavenged, or casting a laconic yet sadistically greedy eye on whether Cesc gets mind raped into leaving his first team place at Arsenal. All in all, quite strange that an entire transfer season, traditionally a time of excitement, conjecture and fantasy, instead revolved around three transfers that I DIDN'T want to see... What's stranger (i.e more strange, not guy I've never seen before in my life and shouldn't take biscuit from coz it'll be drugged to kidnap me, break my legs and make me a beggar in Bihar...so i took ONE biscuit and they traumatize me with horror stories...parents!) , the usual fare of transfers I don't want to see, viz. nice players sucked into Madrid and running the risk of no longer being nice players, slipped completely under the radar and ended up explaining said phenomenon by being revealed as unradarable specks of dust to begin with.
While Malaga was busy dipping into Santa's pocket (and I don't mean in the dirty way Arsene Wenger would...assuming Santa was played by a 10 yr old) for various trinkets, RM has been too ominously silent this year. I've been waiting for the grand revelation of a brand new striker with brand new boots to kick Higuain's useless rump out the door, the lack of news is both pleasantly surprising yet coldly deadly in its promise... With less than 2 weeks to go before La Liga 2011-12 starts, there is noooo way Madrid are going to allow themselves to start the season with Higuain, Ronaldo, Benzema and the (admittedly awesome) recalled Jose Callejon (whom I watched and loved in Espanyol all these years having nooo friggin clue he was a madrid spy...) as the only forwards...
For someone who started hating Madrid when they attacked with Zidane, Ronaldo (the real one), and Raul... it seems embarrassing and unfair to hate them now with their pitifully and all too obviously hateable line up... I miss those days when they were good enough to EARN your hate... when Ronaldo dribbled past everybody and fatly scored... I had to think hard to insult him, had to work at the hate... when Zidane controlled, swiveled and baldly spun away... I had to dance precariously on the edge of unreasonable vendetta... when Raul danced around in the box and chipped the keeper before doing my favorite goal celebration of all time, and the one I will use when (if) I score my first goal... It was a kind of venom that needed to draw from, and hence strengthened, my love for Valencia and Barca. It was an exciting, difficult, and rewarding hate. Now there's a cocky homo ballet dancer, a useless toy that even Gepetto would be ashamed of, and incredible EPLness in gameplay and the hate I feel....its just... too easy... I miss the fat Ronaldo.
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