Sunday, 25 April 2010
And When A Hero Comes Along.....
Disclaimer- This blog is going to be about football. Some of my lovely lady readers may find this about as interesting as a seminar on toenails, so in light of this, I aim to pepper this post with a few pictures of this cute kitten, just so you can all make it through to the end. See, I’m always thinking of you.
A few posts ago, I discussed my views on religion in a hackneyed and pretty shit way. I basically summed up my position by saying I was a diehard atheist and believed more in tiny hobgoblins than the existence of an all seeing, omnipresent, and benevolently kind supreme being that watches over us.
I now believe in god.
I am now a fully paid up member of the religion of Parker.
I’m a Parkerist, and to be frank, my god is the god to end all gods.
Who exactly is Scott Parker I hear you ask in a frankly bored and listless tone?
That's a good question.
Who is Scott Parker?
Scott Parker was made on the eighth day, after the holy deity rested on the seventh (because he/she needed to rest before completing the herculean task of making this superman in human form), and is made from steel, nuclear waste, fairy dust and moon juice.
Being a West Ham fan, for most of the time, is not a very enjoyable experience. We aren’t very good. That's not to say we are terrible, just very, very mid-table. But occasionally we can pull something magical out of the bag, something so deep and profound that it can make up for all the years of stress, anxiety and nail biting tension that being a supporter of this great club provides. It’s kind of like having a rectal examination by an incompetent doctor with really fat fingers who suddenly pulls a £50 note from your arsehole with a grand flourish like a magician pulling a rabbit form a hat (Wow that was quite possibly my most bizarre metaphor ever. Go me.).
So there is a lot of claret and blue blood running through the veins of English football history, but that still doesn’t disguise the fact that for most of the time, we are the perennial underachievers, promising so much, but always failing to deliver.
West Ham is also engrained on my family history as well. My dad and uncle were die in the wool Hammers, and every weekend, all it would be was West Ham this and West Ham that. I couldn’t escape it.
After my dad died I started to try and seek some kind of connection with him, mainly because I felt as if I didn’t truly know him. We liked the same music, films, and books, so I had that, but there was one massive area of his life that I knew nothing about, West Ham. So I decided to take the plunge and immerse myself in that world to make a connection with him.
It started slowly at first, catching a few games on the TV here and there, but before i knew it, something ignited in me, like some huge flare going off in my head, and all that family history with West Ham was suddenly all I wanted.
I was hooked.
I started going to games regularly, eventually acquiring a season ticket. Every weekend would now be based around our games, every evening would be spent on the internet, reading forums and checking news about us. I even met Kates through West Ham.
All in all I’ve properly followed this team for about ten years now. I’ve seen some terrible lows, but also moments of pure sublime joy as well, sublime joy that has actually left me close to tears.
But what about Scott Parker, I hear you ask? (Still in that bored tone, but with an underlying edge of: Well, I’ve come this far, let’s see how the twat is going to end this).
This season has been awful. I won’t make you want to hang yourself by going into detail, but we have basically been lurking down the bottom of the table, wearing slutty makeup and flirting outrageously with relegation.
The team just hasn’t been at the races, and combined with a rookie manager and farcical boardroom antics, it seriously looked as though we would drop down a league and face financial Armageddon. Nearly every player has underperformed and let themselves down.
Well, apart from one.
So, yesterday was crunch time. We were playing Wigan and if we won the match, we were virtually guaranteed to stay up.
It didn’t start well. We were a goal down after a few minutes after one of our players put the ball into our own net.
The West Ham way.
But we got back into the game, scoring two goals and looking like we were going to win the match.
And then it happened.
We were level on goals and the match was ticking down with only about 15 minutes to go.
But Scott Parker wasn’t having that.
Scott Parker wasn’t having that at all.
After a lovely little flick down from Franco, Scott had the ball at his feet and launched himself towards Wigan’s goal, pulling his strong and manly (and dreamy) leg back, he unleashed a thunderbolt of a shot that screamed past their hapless keeper and made it 3-2, saving the club from relegation, because he is Scott Parker, and that is what Scott Parker does.
When that goal went in, I shot of from my PC chair (as I was watching it on the computer) and screamed out “GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! GET FUCKING IN!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SCOTT PARKER I WANT YOUR BABIES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” and then realised that my windows were open and all of my neighbours had heard what I had just yelled out.
But I was okay with that.
I mean, this is Scott Parker we are talking about here.
This is what the goal meant to him.
And this is the goal itself. Look into the face of the god that is Scott Parker.
All over the land,, West Ham supporters were suddenly having a serious debate about their own sexual orientations. On my West Ham forum, posts like this were springing up:
There's not much to add, apart from that I love him more than any girlfriend I've ever had.
I would definitely let him bum me if he wanted to.
Just got home. At the moment, he could bum me, my wife, my cat, dog AND gerbils.
There was a lot of talk of bumming going on. Too much talk of bumming to be honest, but suddenly we were all debating whether you could actually have a womb implanted so we could carry Scott’s babies.
My West Ham supporting friends on Facebook have changed their status to variations of: Scott Parker Will You Marry Me?
Here is an excerpt of comments from a status update my friend Steve had.
Dan: You’re feeling the man love as well Steve?
Steve: I think the only word I can currently use to describe my utter respect and love for that man is: 'swollen'.
So there you have it, one man has turned us all in to a bunch of screaming queens.
But he is Scott Parker, so it’s totally, and believably, understandable.
There, I feel we have all bases covered now.