A Personal Genealogy of Terror?

My father used to take both my eldest brother and me to watch the local soccer team every other Sunday. Unless one of the other big teams came (and fighting would organically ensue involving, at different times, and in different variations players, fans, referees, and riot police), the people that sat around us were always more interesting, and much scarier, than the games themselves.

First of all, there was that old secretary that, whenever our team didn’t play up to her high expectations, would always “You can see more soccer than this at the schoolyard. Next week, I will go there, instead.” I think that on my brother’s side there was another character, but I do not remember what his triumph and tragedy were. On my left, though, there was this guy who would always wear a pea coat. If I ever brought sunflower seeds to chew on while watching the game, he would rub his hands and scream “Pepitas!” , his codeword for seeds. If the action figure line ever comes out,  his should be able to reproduce at random intervals his puzzling favourite line: “The time is right for a logical goal!” Doctor Doom probably find good use for someone with such a penchant for incisive, clear dialogue  as this character.

Every Sunday, the same ritual:

-          “Hey, what a lucky guy! With one son on each side, you have more room for your legs!”

-          “You can see more soccer than this at the schoolyard. Next week, I will go there, instead.”

-          “Pepitas.”

 


1 Comment »

  1. satis says:

    Gora San Mames!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <strike> <strong>