Zero Hero

Rushing desperately, I raced along the Federal Highway to get home in time for the replay of the Liverpool-Milan game which I purposely missed this morning. Too risky, considering that I have to sit for exam that afternoon. For the entire day, I avoided and refused to hear anything about the outcome of that match. Agitatedly switching between radio channels the moment the DJ spoke about the game while ignoring strings of SMSs pouring into my handphone - worried that it could possibly spoil the thrill of the game. It was almost a psychopathic disorder – fear from knowing the truth while the whole world already knows.

Tuning in to the TV sport’s channel, the Red Army was marching in. Emotions were kept at bay as I gradually hypnotized into the “Zone” where the only time that matters was the clock on the top right corner of the TV screen. For me, this was the finals, Liverpool-AC Milan “LIVE” (although it was a replay). From there on, my heart rate went completely erratic, clutching pillows, fisting and punching the air, throwing vulgar gestures, muttering and refining my vocabulary in obscene curses. It was a thriller, simply because it could have knocked anyone’s heart out of the chest. My Reds, trailing by 3 nil at half-time, leveled by full-time and won on a 3-2 penalty shoot-out. An amazing comeback and definitely a match that tears at the heart of every Liverpool fan…

And, that’s how I ended up in the office wearing this red jersey, boss.