It was a usual summer Mumbai day, unbearably hot. I was pitying the misery of the rather indifferent, homeless old man outside, while I was resting in the comfort of my air-conditioner. A routine day in my life, everything seemed normal at a glance. The Wi-Fi was working, the cable was on, the computer was fit and running, Troll Football was copying tweets. Who knew moments from then I’d be envious of the old man’s ignorance. Oh life, thou art cruel.
Millions of miles away, preparations were in place for a “big announcement” at Old Trafford. The twitter feed was cluttered with speculations, rumours, wishes, some cynical and some plain delusional. A few clever jokes aside, the word on the grapevine was “Sir Alex Ferguson was contemplating retirement”. Having been a faithful Manchester United supporter for 7 years now, such a rumour couldn’t dampen my spirits. It would be dismissed as soon as it was conceived. But, it felt a little strange this time around. It almost felt this could be it. But any amount of ‘Inner Peace training from Master Shifu’ couldn’t have prepared me for the actual moment. The intuition was becoming a reality. The Denial-Anger-Bargaining-Depression-Acceptance process was setting in.
“How can he? He’s still so young! He’s only 71! He still has 20 more years! That Turkish referee refused him his dream! We don’t mind you not signing a mid-fielder, just don’t go!”
I still haven’t seen the actual press conference announcement; because I know I won’t be able to handle him speak the R-word. Not the one used to describe Suarez, the other one.