Ok, so this is for all the ladies out there who love balls. Big balls, small balls, round, oval, soft and hard balls. All kinds of balls. Today we will talk to the ladies about football, the game where you (ok, not you, a group of men, 11 men) chase a round ball all over the field, kick it with all they got into a net then celebrate in ways that i really find embarrassing for grown up men. Grown up men in shorts, pathetic!
The worst kind of these ways of celebration i ever saw was by a Kenya Premier League team that played Bandari FC last Sunday….aih, not pleasant, you will need to produce ID so i can tell you what they did.
I thought of writing about women and foot ball coz of something that went down sometime back in ’12 while i was out visiting kinsmen of mine. This fellow, my good host is a huge Blues fan. He is a kyuk from Kabete. His girlfriend dresses in the most pathetic way and i can tell that Joe* (not his real name) found this embarrassing. If i was him i would too.
I noticed his embarrassment at a dinner we had been invited to by some staff at a Ugandan embassy somewhere. There were some Dominican chics on the invite, fly as Roses in Buckingham palace. The Dominicans were something on the dance floor, all the dudes were, well, si you know how guys behave when chics are dropping it like its hot!
The main mama from the Ugandan embassy who had organized the dinner is a staunch Real Madrid fan. She talks about the team (in that seasoned Ugandan accent) with such emotion you would think she owns it. Her niece joins in, also a Real Madrid (read Christiano Ronaldo) fan. It’s disheartening listening to them talk about football.
So Joe’s girl, let’s call her Waitherero (i wish it was her real name) joins the Dominicans on the floor and she spoils everything, even the dj stopped playing the music. She is dancing like something from the Zombie apocalypse, trying to copy the Dominicans. Epic fail this one, epic fail. Joe ceased looking at her like the day before yesterday, he is busy staring at some plantain on his plate; I thought he was gonna drill a hole through them with the stare.
I swear, kikuyu women know nothing about dropping it like its hot. Ok, they do know how to drop men (Nyeri men) like hot potatos.
Joe danced too. Kikuyu men dance funny especially if they have pot bellies, they just concentrate on the belly movements which is totally pathetic. He reminded me of a musician from way back late 80s early 90s called CDM Kiratu!
Vroooooom, fast foward to Joe’s house. We had to reach early for Chelsea’s game. He is a show off guy, this Joe. First he drives too fast cutting into lanes and doing crazy corners (he has Diplomatic plates) just to show me how his GPS works. He was drunk and i was scared he was gonna ram into a wall or fly over a bridge and kill us. Inside his house he is showing off his heater, very handy during winter (like i even cared), his HD decoder which you can pause, play and record shows to watch later. Am sure if he had a cat he would have shown me its balls (this post is about balls), the ones he had preserved in a jar after castrating the poor thing.
He offers me some frothy drink which is non alcoholic (it says so on the label) and i decline. Hell man, that thing was too frothy to be anything but an alcoholic drink!
Game starts. We have this funny conversation about EPL, am an Arsenal fan so he starts throwing me some weird questions like, “ebu remind me that tall buggers name who looks like Nwankwo kanu!”
“Who, Fabregas?” i ask.
“No!” drunkards are funny. “The one from west Africa…this bugger who went to Tottenham!”
Am pissed off. “Oooooh, Adebayor?”
Then he talks a whole sack of unpleasant stuff about my team.
Waitherero peeps from the kitchen, “is Drogba playing today?”
I look at her and the sight is an eyesore; she has ‘things’ around her tummy that want to spill out of her funny blouse.
Joe doesn’t answer. The game starts, Waitherero keeps asking about Drogba. Me am like, aih, kwani the entire milky way draws its energy from Drogba’s head?
Drogba is making a run for goal. He looks strong. He is running. An opponent comes close to him and Drogba dives. Funny fellow this one, should have been an actor. He rolls like 16.5 times clutching the wrong leg. Goodness, you would have thought he had been slashed with a machete. He grimaces. Makes painful faces and calls for an ambulance. The opponent is petrified. He is like, ref i didn’t even touch this negro!
Waitherero is pissed off, she almost throws a bowl of popcorn she had against the Telly. Joe looks at her in disdain. She is rubbing her head furiously as if someone had died in their family. All because Drogba is hurt.
Joe is like, “Aih, this guy is not even hurt, wacha drama ata wewe!”
“Wooooi, my Drogba!” she cries out.
Joe switches to Nat Geo Wild, then to al Jazeera and Bundesliga.
“Ah, ebu switch back we see whether Drogba is ok!” Joe is clearly not amused by the spectacle.
All through the game waitherero was all Drogba this, Drogba that. Damn, i was not her boyfie Joe but i was really feeling the pinch, the huge potato stuck in my throat. I figured Joe must have like 3 of those potatos stuck on his throat.