A Flavorless Mush I Call “Root Marm”

There’s a-doings a-transpiring in the world of football. Jose Mourinho is bound for Inter. Which means that Dider Drogba is about to transform into a fictional character briefly capable of existing in several places at once. Which means that Zlatan Ibrahimović is going to topple like an imaginary domino, landing on an imaginary city in Spain. Which means that Frank Lampard is going to have his name mentioned in ways that don’t make sense. If the sequence of events unleashed by the Mourinho signing were to unfold in exactly the way that it’s been dreamed up by the press, Luis Figo would cease to age, and Inter would have launched the greatest realignment of European football since Abramovich bought Chelsea in the first place.

Somewhere, a Tottenham fan is busy convincing himself that this makes it more likely that Spurs will sign Samuel Eto’o.

I don’t really have a lot to say about all this. Right now I’m just hanging out in the alley, casually kicking it up against the wall. It’s not exactly the peach of all surprises, but it beats thinking about Gazza being sectioned again after carjacking his ex-wife’s neighbor, or the fact that the long list of players (Rosicky, Babel, et. al.) who will miss Euro 2008 due to injury now includes Fabio Cannavaro, and possibly Patrick Vieira as well. It’s been a bleary few days for some reason. I’ll probably just stay out here until football gets in a better mood.

A Brighter Note: I’ve been meaning for several days to highlight New African Soccer Magazine, which is in the middle of a relaunch and has some good deals on subscriptions at the moment, including free issues and a drawing for prizes. You might have seen their recent article on Pitch Invasion about the history of African players in England. In any case, the magazine is a good read and well worth checking out.