In the words of my favorite Zoroastrian, “Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?” Last week, our boys of Verde captured the team’s first ever trophy: The Copa Tejas. While Zarathrustra might not have spake about this,
my beloved hens did have a vision that predicted bringing the trophy to the Capital City.
In celebration, a perfectly executed Nordic worm may or may not have even made an appearance.
It all left me bereft of speech and thought.
This euphoria has forced me to question everything, to ask if what I see, what I perceive, is true or just some approximation of reality. Heady stuff, I know.
I thought I’d start with something simple, something small, something worthless: FC Dallas. Let’s look at their Texas-Summer-Sun-Loving-and-Even-Welcoming field.
Ah, yes. I had somehow forgotten that FC Dallas doesn’t play in Dallas because why would a Dallas team deign to play in Dallas even though space in Dallas is available as well as a rabid and large population in Dallas that craves good soccer to be played in Dallas?
Nah. Let’s play in Frisco.
Disappointed but not disconsolate, I decided to turn to our next opponents. I popped in the maps and . . .
Really? New York Red Bulls don’t play in New York!? What is this world coming to? Why is it so hard for a team to play in the city after which it took its name? Does toponym mean nothing to this league? I guess I simply have to take solace in knowing that NYCFC plays in a state of the art facility in the heart of the city.
I’m sad. Crestfallen. Doleful. Is there nothing real in this world anymore?
The modern philosopher, Roger Bennett, will declaim, “It’s often darkest before it’s pitch black.” While this can be true, others contend that, at one’s lowest point, if you’re open to receiving it, light will manifest itself in your life in some way.
The light can take many forms. For me, the light in my life is my hens. Some see my birds as nothing more than a viand. But, no, they are so much more than nutritionally dense protein.
San Julius steps up to me and gazes her gaze of a chicken deep into my blue eyes. I’m transfixed by her. We lock in cosmic harmony for what seems like ages upon ages. My soul doth magnify my chickens.
While we are restoring faith to the world, Wolfie walks in. She looks first at San Julius. Now she looks at me. She raises her right wing and seems to bow before us.
Yes, my dears. I understand.
El FC 1-0 New York Terrible Tasting Thai Tonic
Louis de Ludovico
Viewing McKalla as his personal empire, Louis lives for the beautiful game. And food. Especially flamingo tongues. A chicken savant.