Manchester United 1 - 2 Brighton & Hove Albion 
This was Tuesday.

Occasionally, I try to listen to one of the soccer podcasts; “Gab & Jules” it was this morning. But they are all too damn serious. And for all the podcasters know about the game, infinitely more than I do, they seem to me untethered to reality.
     This morning, Gab and Jules were talking about Man United’s loss to Brighton & Hove Albion. Completely unacceptable(!!), as if BHA were no opponents at all, as if there had been no players in blue and white on the pitch, as if Pascal Gross, in particular, had stayed home. So even if Man U was without a true number 9 . . .
     In which case — how could Manchester United be without? — they should just go out and get one. Better than, a damn sight better than, Marko Arnautović, never mind that he might be the best available — he is older than Jesus! Availability be damned — this is Manchester United: they should be able to get whoever/ whatever they want whenever/however they want it. Never mind how shitty they’ve been the last several seasons. (Proving they can't get whatever whenever, doesn’t it). But reality be damned.
     Renounce the laws of gravity, say you are above them, and they don’t apply to you.

Diogenes of Sinope was right, at least this far: you can only free yourself from the rules of the marketplace by absenting yourself from it. He meant by that that you cannot buy a center forward other than in the mall where you can buy a center forward. You can’t conjure one out of the air; you can’t conjure a God to conjure one out of clay, pace Gab and Jules. And, sadly, even if you are Manchester United, you can no longer go marauding and rape one as the Romans did the Sabine women.
    But, no! You can! There is a God, Sir Alex Ferguson, right? Reality be damned.

                                                                      08.11.22
_______________
Graphic: Erik Ten Hag by m ball.