By Daniel Finton (Deputy Editor)
What up, Pimps?
Welcome one and welcome all to the Finton’s Frolic right opinion zone.
I’m gonna be honest. I’m buzzing. Time to put my ego to the side and not worry about me, and instead the magic we bared witness to yesterday.
It wasn’t pretty from either side.
Arsenal looked quite impotent and Porto looked as if Pulis was their manager. It was truly a tale of anti-football versus inability to play football. One side was actively trying to play while the other, actively not to.
And just before we delve into the captain’s memorable outing, I thought I would just take a moment to soothe some anxieties regarding the quarterfinals. I’m genuinely not sure it will get any worse than that, Pimps.
The vast majority of sides left — excluding Atletico Madrid, who at the time of writing are not through or out — have some dignity and will likely refuse to play in a fashion, or lack thereof it, similar to Porto. And thank goodness, because it was, one, annoying and, two, it became quite clear that referees are incapable of preventing a sinister side from slithering between the lines of football law. Never thought I’d say this, but they can learn a thing or two from the English officials.
The stoppage time, or again, lack thereof it, in particular was an embarrassment. And one, I believe will not last. Next season we’ll be seeing those big numbers added to the end of most halves.
Anyways, Ødegaard.
In spite of the game being quite the eyesore, our captain stood out like a diamond in a dump. It looked like the symbolic yellow band belonged wrapped around his forearm.
He led by example, running and pressing like a marathon runner, constantly encouraging those around him — including the crowd— and even stepped up first in the penalty shootout. He dispatched his shot like a captain, too; simply decisive, and then gave a a “let me hear you” celebration/plea to the Emirates faithful.
And such a performance got me pondering many positive questions about Ødegaard, perhaps overly excited ones.
Do we talk about Saka and Rice too much, inadvertently disrespecting our skipper, not giving him his “flowers”?
Will he, after what’s hopefully a successful decade with the club, be the man cast in bronze outside the stadium?
Is he what we always wanted Mesut Özil to become?
And I think the answer to all of those questions could be either answer and I may even be jumping the gun. I do that when I get excited.
But the fact that I’m getting so hopeful is the biggest compliment I could give to the Norwegian.
About that third question: I, frankly, fucking loved Özil.
He was beautiful. There were things he did on a football pitch that no other player in history would or will ever be able to do. He was a genius. And unfortunately, he knew it.
As it transpired, Özil was too sexy for us. He was a super model, and a bit of a bitchy one at that, while we were merely a modest plumber. We were screwed into divorce and were left hurt from the beautiful children (trophies) that could’ve been that weren’t. Aside from a couple FA Cups, but those kids won’t do anything special.
Ødegaard, on the other hand, is not as easy on the eye (football-wise because obviously he is a stunning specimen of a man) but is wifey material. He’s the kind of spouse that brings you a fresh roll of toilet paper after you’ve violently shit all over the walls, countertops, pet cat Mr. Whiskers, and your mother’s face. He’s ride or die, works hard for the cause, and deserves that wedding band he was gifted from the club.
The industry he brings to the table in spite of being so technically gifted is rare. We shouldn’t take it for granted.
Özil was ever-stubborn in the way that he seemingly refused to be bothered. Our new wife, however, gets irate when those around him aren’t caring at a level he deems sufficient.
The fact is, in a marriage you will never be happy with an Özil. He will leave you wondering what you, or in this case, the players around him are doing wrong. When he was here it was always “we need a striker,” or “we need a better defensive midfielder to cover for his lack of defensive nous”. Bullshit. He needed to work for the relationship. He didn’t need the Pilates class or Range Rover to boost his morale.
The reality of the situation is that nothing was being done wrong on our end. We just were not compatible and would never be. We were expected to work full time, clean the house, and tend to the garden while he stood there and looked bug eyed and pretty.
If you’re not willing to change for the betterment of your significant other you don’t actually love them. Now, how many positions has Ødegaard turned out for us? With Özil it was missionary only.
We’re so lucky to have a player as talented and elite in mentality as our new captain. Now the question is, how many children will this marriage end up bringing to the world?
So far we have an ugly ass, red haired kid named “community shield”. But I’m hoping we start reproducing like bunny rabbits, hopping into the Easter season.
God I hate myself.
Toodloo..!