Penalty kicks . . . aka futility
I know how England feels. Only I can't blame my problems on Wayne Rooney. And they probably shouldn't (entirely) either. Because while his getting a red card for losing his temper and kicking a Portuguese player where it was certainly going to hurt caused England to be at a disadvantage for the rest of the match, it was all pretty much equal when it came to the penalty kicks.
And then they blew it.
I have a sense of the same sort of futile blowing it every time I contemplate pages 32-50 in Spence and Sadie. The end of chapter two and the beginning of chapter three (on those amazing occasions when I actually get that far) make me think Ricardo must be standing at the Chapter Three sign, repelling every one of my advances.
How hard can it be? I ask myself. It's not like I don't know what has to happen. It's not like this is a very tricky deal. But apparently it is. Because I keep running up to the beginning of chapter three and kicking the ball -- and every time blinkin' Ricardo (or his literary equivalent) knocks it away and I retreat and try again.
And again. And again.
The difference, I suppose, is that I get to keep trying. Ricardo will stay out there until I get it right -- and then he will smile and wave me on and say, "Way to go." Which, I suppose, is one of the good things in writing as opposed to soccer. But at the moment, it sucks.
As you may have guessed, I didn't get my five pages written. Well, actually I did. But then I threw them out. And, for good measure, I threw out another five besides. Which puts me in something of a hole. Like England, playing a man down.
But I've made a couple of substitutions and, hey, what do you know -- fresh legs. I'm getting up a head of steam again. Trying again.
All of soccer is not England, anyway. How about Zidane and the rest of the French team? They didn't let it get to penalty kicks. With my fresh legs, I'm going to go for it again.
Wish me luck!
And then they blew it.
I have a sense of the same sort of futile blowing it every time I contemplate pages 32-50 in Spence and Sadie. The end of chapter two and the beginning of chapter three (on those amazing occasions when I actually get that far) make me think Ricardo must be standing at the Chapter Three sign, repelling every one of my advances.
How hard can it be? I ask myself. It's not like I don't know what has to happen. It's not like this is a very tricky deal. But apparently it is. Because I keep running up to the beginning of chapter three and kicking the ball -- and every time blinkin' Ricardo (or his literary equivalent) knocks it away and I retreat and try again.
And again. And again.
The difference, I suppose, is that I get to keep trying. Ricardo will stay out there until I get it right -- and then he will smile and wave me on and say, "Way to go." Which, I suppose, is one of the good things in writing as opposed to soccer. But at the moment, it sucks.
As you may have guessed, I didn't get my five pages written. Well, actually I did. But then I threw them out. And, for good measure, I threw out another five besides. Which puts me in something of a hole. Like England, playing a man down.
But I've made a couple of substitutions and, hey, what do you know -- fresh legs. I'm getting up a head of steam again. Trying again.
All of soccer is not England, anyway. How about Zidane and the rest of the French team? They didn't let it get to penalty kicks. With my fresh legs, I'm going to go for it again.
Wish me luck!
posted by Anne McAllister at 3:52 PM
3 Comments:
Once it went to penalties, I knew they would blow it. England ALWAYS seem to blow penalties.
Srill it would have harder to go out in the semis to France. Zidane and the rest looked seriously good last night...
I am sorry Spence and Sadie are being silly as I am very much looking forward to reading this one.
Well, you know this whole Men in Shorts Contest bores me stupid (okay - stupider)and it's totally unpatriotic but - can I just mention a certain French goal scorer - Thierry Henry - va va voom indeed (Maybe that's a UK advert reference that doesn;t carry to you?)
Men in white tennis shorts - now that's a different matter!
I understood that Spence was heading for an island? Perhaps if you put him in a pair of shorts (Sorry Spence - perhaps if you dressed yourself in a nice pair of shorts ) then both Sadie and Anne might have a better day?
It could work - try it
Kate who spent yesterday afternoon with Vito instead of the Men in Shorts competition - it was wonderfully quiet!
Michelle, It's the "Cubs factor" for England, penalty kicks. Only with the Cubs it extends to all their seasons and every aspect thereof. Succeed? Hah!
Kate, well, at least you have roused yourself to notice Thierry Henry. And that was a very impressive goal. Though I imagine it was more than the goal that you were va-va-vooming. (The reference doesn't carry, exactly, but the underlying intent isn't too hard to follow!
I was going to remark about the men in white shorts over at Wimbledon (but first I had to look up how to spell it. Lots of potential pitfalls in that word!). My mother approves of them. She's been getting up at 6 every morning just to watch (which if you knew my mother -- and knew it was going to be delay-cast later in the day -- would strike you as impressive indeed. The men in white shorts are very nice, too, but tennis is,to me, a bit less thrilling than watching paint dry which is how you see soccer, Kate.
I would definitely request that Spence change into shorts, but as he is currently standing in the corridor of the courthouse of the City of New York, that might not be the best idea. On the other hand, it could definitely lead to some interesting plot complications!
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