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      Confessions...........

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      RedStorm
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      Confessions...........
      Jan 17, 2009 06:55:58 pm
      First of all, apologies if I've put this in the wrong place. I didn't know exactly where I'd fit it in.
      (
      Do you have any football confessions or any in general, that you need to be absolved of? (Hopefully no mention of shallow graves or barnyard animals!)

      The year was 1980. I was a sports-mad seven year old kid, who along with my brother, was playing plenty of footy, cricket and Aussie Rules.
      We then decided to 'extend' our passion to following sport on the telly, to see how the Pros did it so well. Our appetites were insatiable, and soon enough discovered English football. We were immediately hooked. The passion, the pace, the clubs steeped in tradition and history.
      Our next Herculean task was choosing a club to support. My older brother played it wisely and wanted to bide his time. By the end of my first weekly one hour highlights package: ( which was our only way of following the league), I impulsively dived in and Lo and behold I chose, you guessed it: the Mancs!!
      I am aware that at this moment I would be receiving a barrage of boos, hisses, derision and scorn, and I DO deserve it all, I know this.

      During that first hour's experience, I continually told my brother to choose Liverpool, as they looked great to watch by playing attractively attacking football.
      The next weekend was finally upon us and we were desperate to catch another glimpse of our new found entertainment. My brother was still reticent into committing, and I once again waxed lyrical about Liverpool FC and tried coaxing him into choosing them.
      Finally it dawned on me: "Why the hell don't I support them?! Seeing as though I constantly talk about them!" I then righted a major wrong.
      Fate intervened. Perhaps it was pure dumb-luck, but I think not. Surely it was my destiny to support the Greatest sporting club on the face of the earth.
      I immediately was captivated  by the club and tried to get my hands on anything to do with them. I devoured books and magazines and still couldn't get enough. I, to my joy, found such a rich and amazing tradition at the club, having immense success yet still showing so much humility. I identified with the working-class background so much and soon enough, the Reds became entrenched in my heart forever.
      My brother also became a fellow Red, and it was the wisest decision we have ever made.

      PART 2 OF MY SHAME:

      Almost a decade ago, I was involved in a post-season friendly tournament with my local footy club. We had a 3 match schedule on the same day. We hadn't had a particularly fruitful season that year and we went into this tournament under no pressure. This is probably why we went out and won every match, playing our best footy for the season.
      We beat more fancied rivals and it was just so much fun. We played free-spirited and I showed my best form dominating in centre midfield, having the ball on a string and scoring in every match. Everything I touched turned to gold. I wished this day would never end.
      When we were finally finished, a 'Golden Ticket' was provided to me by an opposition captain. He had come into our change-room and asked if any 2 of our players wanted to fill in for their team as they had 2 no-shows. My friend and I jumped at the chance of continuing this glorious day.
      We rushed into their room introducing ourselves, and looking for their playing shirts to change into. We then saw it............ a F***ing grotesque, diamond splattered clown outfit: A Manc shirt!! My heart sank. What to do? We had committed ourselves and bailing out now would have looked terrible after the team was so happy we were about to help them out.
      I'll put this terrible indiscretion down to my adrenalin still pumping and wanting to keep playing.
      What helped was that my mate was also a Red, and thought the whole 'strength in numbers' thing would ease the pain. We bowed our heads in shame as we put on this death-rag. My pain increased as I saw the number on the back of the shirt:7! for F**k's sake.
      To compound matters, a team mate from my club, who was a rabid Manc through and through, caught a glimpse of me trudging onto the pitch and berated me incessantly. Thank God phone-cameras weren't around yet otherwise he could've had the greatest ammunition on me forever.
      Even though it couldn't possibly matter, my good form continued and I scored a lovely 25 yard chested-up, volleyed goal from a corner. One of my team mates yelled out "That was Beckham-esque!" There it was. My deal with the (red) Devil was complete and he owned my soul.
      When I got home, I washed and scrubbed until my skin was Liver-red and raw, but the damage was already done. :'( :'( :'(

      If I could kick myself in the jewels, I would, although I suspect that I'll get plenty of that from you lot :-[ :-[

      FORGIVE ME SHANKS, FOR I HAVE SINNED.
      Magillionare
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      Re: Confessions...........
      Reply #1: Jan 17, 2009 07:15:00 pm
      I once stole a mars bar  :-[

      Not as god as your story, but stiil  :lmao:

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