Dribbling Blabber.

Yes, I haven't blogged for long.
Yes, because I'm in twelfth.
And Yes, That wasn't the only reason.

I've been lazy. Very lazy. Heck, I haven't even studied like I used to back in 9th. So yeah, I should've blogged. But anyway, I am now. So..

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ARGENTINA IS OUT OF THE WORLD CUP! DAMN IT PEOPLE.



The world's second best team, with the world's best player is out of the world cup. Man this is bad. And what's worse is they got defeated by my second preference, Germany.

This time around, everyone was ready to bet their ass off on Argentina. Tevez and Messi had never been better and what's more, they had El Diego on the side lines. But alas, they lost. Got crushed rather. *Sob*

But it wasn't Messi's looks (the MAIN reason for Argentina's female support), or his signature series F50's that had me screaming and shouting and yearning for a Vuvuzela (love those things) the blue and white stripes stepped out onto the field. No.

It was El Diego. The man famous for his ingenious Hand of God. Back from rehab, struggling through poverty and insulted, the man was out on a mission, and I sure as hell hoped he succeeded.

People scoffed when He volunteered to be coach.
People scoffed when He was appointed.
People scoffed when He bought back His diamond studs with His first paycheck.
And people scoffed when He included 6 strikers in His team.

And He scoffed when Argentina steam rolled one team after the another, while the football world crashed around them. England. Spain. Brazil. (The French just lived up to their expectations of being numb nuts and just revolted against the Administration).

Personally, I've never seen Maradona play. (I wasn't even born man.) But yes, I've certainly heard of him a lot. In the news, at football hubs and in nasty jokes. And although I've always hated druggies, there was something about Diego, that had me supporting him when he declared that he wanted to coach the Argentinean boys.

The bouncing, screaming and jeering-at-the-ref guy, the unruly hair with a salt-pepper beard and the gold rosary in hands (of course, and the diamond studs). All of this. All of this just explained how much Diego missed being on the field, the center of attention. And how sorry he was to have earlier disgraced his nation, determined to never do it again.

But it was not to be. Argentina got served by Germany. And the dejected look on El Diego's face was heart wrenching. I just hope he doesn't do an OD.

But a game's a game peeps. Some win, and some obviously lose. Argentina will return. Stronger than ever, And the Hand of God shall embrace the Football World Cup yet again. Till then, I'm gonna be learning the German anthem, try to find a Vuvuzela, save money for a peperoni pizza and walk around telling people that the Octopus rules.

Love,
Dead Poet.

P.S -
Waka Waka El Diego, Waka Waka.