Freitag! In this weekly feature, Axel Falk embraces the role of the Trequartista and roams free through the world of football. Before you go out for drinks or settle down to watch Bundesliga (not this weekend though...) update yourself by enjoying "Trequartista."
Ugh, it's that time of the season again where the domestic season stops and everyone longs for next week when they start again. The International Break is in my opinion the football equivalent of the Medieval Age. It's irrelevant, but it exists to annoy. It's a dark time too, so that's another thing in common.
This week, and next... We wake up, go to work and then go to sleep without any Bundesliga. Without Premier League. Without La Liga of Serie A. Without Ligue 1. You get the point. We wake up, work and sleep (probably eat too if you want to stay healthy) with nothing to look forward to come the wanted weekend. "Isn't that against human rights?", I wonder. Nevertheless, it's horrific.
Welcome to the Dark Ages I say not too cheerfully, more like a bearded half-naked torturer in a castle in midwestern Normandy. He greets you while you step inside his chamber full of international friendlies, unnecessary injuries and a traction table. The Norman torturer grabs and handcuffs you and he leads you down a dark, moist staircase. He laughs and looks at you. He laughs again. You start to wonder; what will happen to me? Will I survive? "Please wake me up and tell me it's all a horrible nightmare!", you cry. You feel alone and sad, there's no light in sight. Only darkness. You reach a door, which you enter together with the torturer. In the room there are medieval "toys", a traction table and, surprisingly, a few medieval television screens (don't ask). You look at the torturer for mercy, but the horrible man laughs and mumbles something in French. He grabs you by the shoulder and throws you into a chair. He turns around and the screen shows a game of football. You can't really see which game it is, but one thing is certain: It isn't the Revierderby. He pulls the TV closer to you and you slowly realize that you are watching Norway-Hungary, broadcast from a cold Oslo. The torturer relishes in your horrified screams, death is imminent, but he wants you to suffer even more first.
Suddenly the TV changes. He switches to another game, a more entertaining and beautiful game. You are now watching the Revierderby, which makes you dream and hope for better times, makes you look forward to the El Clasico that follows the International Break. You feel hopeful.
The torturer touches the TV again and it switches back to Norway-Hungary.
"Loool I got ya mate!", he laughs in perfect English. He looks at you and smiles. Your horrible screams echo through eternity. Death is imminent.
Enjoy the weekend. I won't.
NB: Yes, I hate International Breaks.
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