Bolivian Bonkersball

We’re about to get started in the Bolivian Liga de Fútbol. It’s Potosi v Universitario. Don’t ask me who plays for who, who plays where or what team is what, because I don’t know. Nor do I care to know either. I’m happy not knowing. Just impress me boys. Show me what you’ve got.

Taking my seat in the stadium, I look around the ground and take in the game day atmosphere. Loving it. But as I look around I start to notice some rather bizarre things. Using my wanky GCSE Spanish I translate the billboards.

‘El Sexo Puede Esperar Tu Futuro’

So you’re telling me to keep my dick in my pants? Hmmm. Well, I’m not so sure about that. That sounds like terrible advice. And as I look around there are more. Many more. Hammered all around the ground are more and more billboards, which nudge you towards behaviour which may get you gold stars, but certainly no browny points.

Anyway, back to the action. Well, kind of. 89 minutes have come and gone. Yes, I know. Zero to 89 minutes in less than six words. It’s been very very very tedious. Both teams have been poor. Low on quality. Still, we have had a goal, scored by Potosi. Now, the question is, can Universitario get back in the game? Unfortunately, they look like one of those teams who could play until next week and still not score. But that doesn’t mean they can’t or won’t score. This is football. A random unpredictable world where it’s never over ‘till the fat lady stops singing. Remember the Euros 2004, France v England? If not, just ask Stevie G. Clown. And, anyway, I paid full price for my ticket so I gonna make sure I get my full 90 minutes plus stoppage time.

So, we’re into the last minute and Universitario are displaying typical human behaviour. They have become exceedingly risk seeking, as they gamble to get even in the game. Their approach is straight out of the Tony Pulis handbook. Long arching balls are booted forward from both defenders and midfielders towards their front men. So far it hasn’t work. The Potosi keeper has hardly had a save to make. But wait. Hold on. The referee has blown. Why has he blown? He’s pointing to the spot. A penalty! Incredible. Nobody knows why, but a player has gone down and the ref has pointed to the spot. It’s penalty to Universitario. Last minute drama. Brilliant!

So, it’s an simple equation. Universitario score and they salvage a draw, or they miss and lose the game. This is what football is all about. The drama. The suspense. The thrill. The excitement. Up steps Universitario’s number 9 to take the penalty kick. This is a test. The ultimate pressure cooker. The one on one every player fears. For Death or Glory.

He strikes… but the keeper saves!

Potosi celebrate! But, oh, no, wait, the game is not over. Premature ejaculation. Universitario players rush to the ball and fire in the rebound. The keeper dives again and saves again. Incredible! BUT. Hands go up. Players are claiming the ball crossed the line. Did the ball cross the line? Universitario say yes (obviously) Potosi say no (obviously). Now, the lineswoman is flagging. She wants to have her say. (Yes, in this supersizeme world of hypermaniccocks and egotestosterone, some women have been brave enough to participate. Many welcome it. Others (Mike Newell) might say their place is back in the kitchen. Philosophers Keys & Gray just say, ‘Smash it!’)

The ref trots over to his lineswoman. They confer. Chit-chat. The Result? Another penalty! Bonkers. Universitario love it. Potosi not so much. For what? Potosi ask. How can you award another penalty? The referee is having none of it though. He simply waves away the protests. The decision has been made. So, back we go. Penalty to Universitario. Again. The ball is back on the spot. Again. The keeper is back on his line. Again. Up steps Universitario’s number 9. Again. He strikes… and what do you know, but the goalkeeper only goes and fucking saves it again!

Mental! Absolutely fucking mental! Bloody hell, I love football.