Why isn’t Gareth Bale mining coal?
Sorry for the late weather forecast. I usually type them up on a Monday you see, but yesterday I was somewhat incapacitated with rage. The source of my pulmonary embolism was a Welsh football player called Gareth Bale.
Monday was what people in the football industry call “transfer deadline day”. I prefer to call it “transferring money to the undeserving day”.
Well we already know what happened on Monday, don’t we. Just to recap, a buck-toothed prole from Cardiff signed a £300,000-a-week, £15million-a-year contract with Get Real Madrid, after his £85million transfer from the Tottenham Hotspots, and was paraded around in front of 20,000 people like some kind of prized ram at the valley fair.
How can this outrage ever be justified? Who allowed this atrocity to happen? Why isn’t Gareth Bale mining coal? And since when were the uneducated allowed to earn more than the educated? What kind of society is this? Have I been transported to another world? Is kicking a football now a more useful societal function than manipulating interest rates or devising collateralised mortgage obligations?
Talent in football is fleeting, it lasts for just a few brief moments before the goal strikes dry up and reality strikes instead. Real talent is the sort that will last for a lifetime. Is Gareth Bale still going to be able to dribble a ball for 75 yards when he’s 55? No, he’ll be dribbling all over his cornflakes. The man is a lorry driver or a pub landlord waiting to happen.
Proper, unadulterated talent is the sort that can be harvested by an employer to help feed the profits of a public limited company for at least 50 years. And that talent doesn’t wane over that time. It matures like a fine wine. Does Gareth Bale know what a fine wine tastes like? Does he fuck. Football is an unprofitable industry simply because its prized assets are all alcoholic, illiterate, thieving chavs. How can you base a business around a cash cow that turns up late for milking?
Football is something one invests in when one is bored of making money. Football is a sports car, football is a second home, football is that Turner painting you’ve got hanging in your hallway. Once you’ve splashed the cash, it’s good for nothing except boosting your ego. Most of the time it’ll just stay in the driveway, be leased out, or loaned to a museum.
Gareth, I have a message for you. Make the most of your time at Madrid. Take your £300,000 from the bank each week and invest it in Canadian oil. Don’t waste your time on Spanish lessons. Go see a proper dentist. Dump your wife and kid and go mingle with one or four of those tall, tanned senoritas they have down there. Buy a decent suit for fuck’s sake. And finally, Gareth, remember where you came from. Because you’ll be back there soon enough.