One-seven

It’s dark by the time I awake, I’m not sure what day it is and I don’t really care except to calculate how many hours I am behind the rest of the world. All I care and know is that I have the Brazil-Germany game to watch. Nothing else matters.  I don’t know the result and I intend to keep it that way, no internet, no news, not even a glance at my e-mails. I will allow nothing to spoil this game. As I make my way down the stairs I hear signs of life from the living room, clearly it’s not as late as I thought. As quick as Thomas Müller heading for goal I make my way to the kitchen. Everything the same as the three previous games, our vampire schedule continues. A late summer night, our Germany t-shirt, no time wasted on social niceties whatsoever and the same turkey sandwich.

Keep the routine and Germany will surely win, even though technically they’ve already won. No matter how absurd it seems I can’t allow anything to be different. Each and every detail must be recreated.

The necessary ingredients are removed from the fridge with lightning quickness, our usual clumsiness on vacation it seems. Is that all it takes not to drop things all the time, to be able to do more than one thing at once? To be totally focused on one thing above everything else and to want to get back to the thing in question as if your life depended on it.  Sandwich assembled and snacks obtained we return to our lair, to the newly christened Löw-land.

With a great sense of trepidation and the thought lurking at the back of my mind that if we looked at the score online, this wouldn’t be so nerve-wracking to watch but equally thinking that whether all goes well or not I want to experience it as they do, with them, with Jogi und Hansi.  And go well it does, I am exceedingly pleased that I didn’t know the score, or I would have been if I was capable of thinking anything. Happiness like I’ve never known it, for one of the few times in my life I find myself crying actual tears and for something real. Not for a TV show and not for a film but for an actual real life event. I’m so happy I feel like I could fly to Germany.

A momentous joyous occasion, seven goals and the moment that cemented Jogi Löw’s place as my favourite person. And a equally special Manuel Neuer moment at the end. Two other videos I found whilst uploading mine, I didn’t think I could love him anymore and yet somehow these videos have exactly that effect:

2 responses to “One-seven

  1. Nicely done sir. I agree with you. It is good to unplug to enjoy the little moments as well as savor the big ones. Also when you have the time check out my prompt and give me your feedback. Thank you and have a great day (or night).

    http://franzical.wordpress.com/2014/10/30/ode-to-a-condiment/

  2. Pingback: Acrostic Poem / Poetry – “Left Logically Yet Rightly Creative” | toofulltowrite (I've started so I'll finish)

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.