Sorry for the missing update last week; I had planned to tell you all about my surprise return to OSI, but it got delayed a little due to a few issues behind the scenes here and there. And then I scooped the blog by announcing it on Twitter. So you probably all know about that already. Not much more to say, I think - I’ve really enjoyed my time at ReverbNation, and I wasn’t looking for a new job at all, but the OSI was in the end too tempting to pass up. I start next Wednesday as a Senior Developer. Quite excited.
Hmm, so what else did I do this week? Oh, that’s right, I finished writing my book.
And I started and finished Red or Dead, the new novel by David Peace. It’s something. It’s a 700 page hagiography of Bill Shankly. Now, Peace has a reputation for repetition in his writing style. Red of Dead takes that style and stretches it out to breaking point…and then kicks it in the back of the net. At home, at Anfield. Here’s a sample:
One week later, Liverpool Football Club travelled to Bramall Lane, Sheffield. And Liverpool Football Club drew nil–nil with Sheffield United. Liverpool Football Club then beat Blackpool Football Club away, Liverpool Football Club then beat West Ham United five–one away. And Liverpool Football Club then beat Fulham Football Club. At home, at Anfield. Liverpool Football Club then drew one-all with West Ham United. Three days later, Liverpool Football Club travelled to White Hart Lane, London. And Liverpool Football Club lost two–one to Tottenham Hotspur. That evening, Liverpool Football Club ..
It goes on like that for seven hundred pages. Every fixture, every goal. At home, at Anfield, or away. It’s quite hypnotizing, in its own way. And polarizing. I loved it wholeheartedly, and it made me realize how much I miss football being just there. I don’t watch it, I moan when my sister puts on another game and manages to find games even after the season has ended, but it has always been there. The FA Cup. My granddad talking about Sheffield Wednesday. My birthday. 1989. Fantasy Football. Watching the World Cup Final in ‘94 in a hotel room in America, yet probably no closer than if we were watching it at home. The night Man Utd beat Bayern Munich in 1999, winning the Treble. All the World Cups, and how every Kinder egg in ‘86 had that Mexican mascot inside.
Red or Dead reminded me of that. And winter, and the night-time.
No you won't, said Bill Shankly. You'll see me at Anfield, John. And Anfield is not in England. Anfield is in Liverpool. And Liverpool is not in England. Liverpool is in a different country, John. In a different country, in a different league.