Callum Rowe's Journals

December 7, 2013

Hi journal.

Today had been the roughest day for us in the youth team.

I never thought that we would be at the receiving end of such an embarrassing defeat.

We shot ourselves in the foot very early, and never recovered. Sure, an outsider might say that we played better than we did last time out where we shipped eight goals away despite being complete. But still, we conceded six goals! If they say it's fine because we're down to ten men anyway, they have to get their glasses fixed.

It's still demoralizing to have back to back disgusting losses like that.

One thing to note is, I didn't play a lot in the game before today, so the strange feeling isn't much for me to be annoyed with, but for the game that had just finished… the feeling of losing this bad won't go away for a while. Man, this hurts.

I am not gonna evade my inadequacy today though. If there's one word that's going to describe how I played today, it would be: atrocious.

It's like a football scrub playing like a wanker.

I'm not proud of it in any way. It's just that, I missed an absolute sitter… that was a godsend opportunity to send the team level right after we conceded the first goal! That was supposed to be a wake up call for me!

But no! My play… took a plunge from that point on instead… so I'm quite sure I'll be flayed alive in the video analysis meeting tomorrow… (I'm not looking forward to it! AHHHH)

Moving on, there's some bright lights within that atrocious performance.

1. Well… uhhh… I'll reiterate again that we are a little bit better today than last time out. The six goal difference shows the fact that our keeper was peppered by shots right from the start and we didn't give him that much breathing room throughout, but our control of the possession was markedly better than last time… and… and…

2. No more excuses. The other bright light was our well worked consolation goal at the end of the game. That goal gave us a hell of a morale boost, albeit it wasn't able to turn into anything significant since yeah… it was basically the last meaningful kick of the game.

A 7-1 result ain't that bad… unless it's in a World Cup Semifinal or something right? That's almost impossible to happen. No, that will never happen! No way!

Anyway, I wanna learn from these horrible games. I wanna take the bad stuff and turn it into my own weapons moving forward. As a footballer, I want to aim for the top.

I don't care much about being the greatest of all time… I just want what my teammate and friend Cameron Okojo wants.

Victory.

I can't achieve it with just relying on my teammates, I have to give what I can to achieve the biggest prize as well.

This day… is nothing but a stepping stone for everyone in the grand scheme of things.

Fuck… I sucked so bad… dammit...

I will never be promoted to the first team if I stay this way…

Should I take the hard line Cameron approach? Or the slightly more forgiving Terry Quinn route? Or, maybe I should use a way that would work better for me?

I'm going to ask my academy pals early tomorrow for that.

So for now, I'm out.

P.S. Don't stay up gaming late.

- Callum

***

Early next morning.

The night was relatively peaceful, once the rains had stopped. However, with the holidays just around the corner, the city of Manchester bustled into life earlier than usual the next morning.

The city streets were quickly filled with people from all walks of life, despite the weekend. Car horns blared, chatter filled the streets, and the smells of daily life woke the city up.

It's the same for Blair Atkinson, struggling to get out of bed after his drinking binge last night with the ultras. He shouldn't be working today since it's a Sunday, but he had scheduled work in the university a while back for this morning.

His groggy eyes were a sign he hasn't fully recovered from his hangover. He gave himself a slap on each cheek to give it color, and wake himself up too in the process. He grabbed some headache pills and got out of his room.

Today is a day Blair needed to be in his peak condition.

The way Blaise saw it when he also rushed out of his room… he's clear that his father wasn't in his optimal condition right now.

He rushed up to him with heavy steps. "Dad!"

Blair spat the water from his mouth along with the pill into the floor in alarm. "What's the rush, son? Can't you see I'm taking my medicine..."

"You really should get yourself together today, huh! This is not a day you can afford to screw over, remember?"

The teenager jumped to the back of his old man, who's still a little wobbly on his feet. The father and son tumbled like tumbleweeds near their staircase.

Blair laughed his head off, as his playful son knocked the living daylights out of him, and his still shaky head. The middle aged man held these kinds of little moments as his treasure, and could only thank his wife in the heavens for raising a son like Blaise.

"Fine then! I'm going to run that damn thesis defense over, son, just like what you did playing football last night." Blair helped his son up, and walked down the stairs with renewed spirit and a sense of purpose.

"Dad!" Blaise called out halfway through his father's descent. "Our manager Steve Bronson told me that chamomile tea works best for hangovers."

Of course, Blaise had picked up on the chamomile tea addiction of his manager the first time he entered his office. Add that to the fact that he also used chamomile tea several times to cover up his drinking sprees in his past life, makes it sensible for him to use his manager to help his father get to the university in a better state.

"Oh really? Then it's my lucky day I guess?" Blair stopped and looked over his shoulder before replying. "I bought several kinds of tea leaves several days ago, I just don't know if I had the right ones… since I've only ever bought jasmine tea."

"I'll be waiting for the good news later, Dad."

"You got it." Blair flexed his biceps and smiled. "They'll realize I'm already at the level of a doctor right now once I'm done."

The father and son duo went on with their early morning activities with a spring on their steps.

***

"Serra, sweetie! You have to rush! You don't want to be late for that interview!" The old lady was all smiles in the morning.

"Yes, grandma! I'll get that part-time job, I promise you!" The young lass said while tying her hair up.

"We have football clubs here in Manchester, why go to Sheffield for a part-time job?" The old man was grumpy. "Is it because of that popular new kid?"

"No! It's not like that!" Serra turned her head away from the old couple and ran toward the door. "It's… it's because you both love the team!"

After the door closed, the husband and wife looked at each other and laughed.

"Oh dear, she's not convincing at all."