In the past two weeks I've been having some very disturbing dreams. Perhaps a psychologist might attribute them to an acute case of "fear of the football future".
Last week, for example, I dreamt I'd been invited to an exclusive football party at a secret location. We're greeted by a mysterious masked man, known only as "BB". The scent of incense wafts around an enormous tropical fish tank, while a group of fashionable people in bodyshirts and zodiac necklaces groove to Barry White or lounge on velvet beanbags.
Just as I was starting to feel relaxed, the music stops and on some secret signal from our host people begin gathering around the Perspex coffee table. Expecting a game of World Cup Monopoly, I am momentarily baffled as I watch some strangely familiar faces proceed to drop their keys in a large wooden salad bowl. On the other side of the room, a group of middle-aged men in rather unflatteringly tight tracksuits leer at them.
With a sudden sense of panic, I recognise one of the most eager key-droppers and edge my way towards him.
"Nik, what on earth are you doing ?" I whisper frantically. But it is too late. A quietly-spoken Scotsman (who doesn't look the type) is winking at him discreetly and dangling a Parramatta Power keyring in the air.
As they make their way towards the front door, I grab the striker's sleeve. "Why, Nik ? Why ??" I cry, feeling jealousy and rejection raging inside me. "Haven't I always stood by you ? Didn't we just make a commitment to each other ? Didn't signing your name MEAN anything to you ?"
But he just looks into my eyes and laughs.
"Relax, baby ! We're all consenting adults and no-one will get hurt. Hey, you'll always be my first choice but I need to see the world, I need a chance to prove myself before it's too late."
"Prove yourself !" I sneer. "Don't make me laugh! He might take you to exotic places and introduce you to exciting people but it's a dangerous world out there ! As soon as you've served your purpose he'll drop you like an empty bottle of Powerade."
But Nik's not listening. He's sharing a very rude joke about referees' pockets with a scary-looking bald guy as they climb into a flashy car, the stereo booming out "Seven Nation Army". As they screech off up the road I can hear a voice crying desperately "what for? what for ? I never touched him !"
I wake up in a cold sweat and then drift back off to sleep, only to face further horrors. December 2010 : a group of men in suits are enjoying the hospitality of Bluetongue's corporate box. One man looks particularly comfortable as he reaches for another party pie and flips through his matchday program.
"How's the new lad fitting in, Lawrie ?" asks the bloke beside him. "Where's he from again ? Ecuador ? Costa Rica ?"
"Nah, I think it's Stromness. He was The Shetland Islands top goal-scorer last year. We've got really high hopes for him."
His eyes scan an interview in the program with the Mariners' coach entitled "Arnie's Army Fight Back". Somehow, I feel like I've read it all before.....
"The passion is back and the hunger to reach the top six has returned after a terrible start. In all honesty the football has not been pretty, but battles are never pretty and that is the way we have been playing since falling to the bottom of the A-League. Quality football will come and a rush of goals is not far away but for now we are more interested in results and clawing our way back into contention." *
Suddenly, there's a huge cheer from the crowd as a gigantic fluffy blue creature parachutes from the sky, hitting the pitch with a deafening thud, leaving a crater-sized hole.
"I told them it wouldn't work," sighs Lawrie. "Still, Tim Bailey's commentary was a laugh."
"NOOOO!" I scream, waking up again in terror. "It's a fresh start, Arnie's a different man, give him a chance ! So far, he's talked sense and I like what I hear."
Realising I'm talking to my Mariners teddy, I go online to tell whoever's out there. There's an email from my esteemed editor with the subject heading "Exciting Opportunity".
"FourFourTwo is committed to moving with the times and keeping its finger on the racing pulse of the A-League. That's why we're giving you an exciting opportunity ! From now on, you'll fulfil the role of "Director of CCM Blogging". Essentially, that means that you provide the ideas and someone cooler and (let's be honest) male will be out front. OK, so he's never made grown men cry with the emotional excess of his opinions, but he's blogged internationally (4 years with FC Little Puking) and once spilt his beer on Dave Davutovic's trenchcoat. Let's just say we're "moving you upstairs."
*Arnie's Column 17th December, 1999. Yes, I keep everything.
