Gawd, Why am I soooo good at this game?

The most eagerly anticipated event of 2008 so far, the arrival of everyone’s favourite football game, pro evolution, has been and gone, tears have been shed, speeches made and the confetti is now on the floor. And it’s just the same old shit.

First game with my dear friend Ricardo had me believing that this year maybe there was something different in store. The physics are different and the referee tougher. Could I break the hoodoo that has been going longer than Chelsea’s champions league drought? (Well not really, but seeing as they have never won it, or even been in the final, that would be impossible). Ricardo’s penchant for trying to break the legs of my players was paying dividends for me, with first one, then two, then three players sent off. And finally at 3-1 he cracked the ritz and had one too many players sent off, and the game was forfeited in my favour. I am of the opinion he just didn’t want to lose worse than 3-0, but anyway.

I was almost excited. But then it happened. I should have been warned by Ricardo’s constant use of the new dive function, and a ridiculous penalty against me. But I wasn’t. As the song goes ‘the real troubles in your life are apt to be those that blindside you on some idle Tuesday’, except it was a Monday. That’s right Ladies and Gentlemen, the return of the dreaded chip.

And back it came with a vengeance not seen since I chased Seth Edwards through the corridors of PAC. Suddenly, in game two I was down 5-1, with two of the most gentle, delicate and graceful chips you have ever seen. Oh god what was I to do? I don’t know whether I could stand a return to the dark days of PES 4. I was very tempted to throw my PS3 out the window right there and then, without a backward glance and no regrets. Or curl up into the foetal position and start slowly rocking. But no, I held it together. Just. The type of fortitude I normally reserve for wearing Lime Green suits into Red Square got me through, but I had to call on everything I had.

So it looks like I can look forward to a summer of broken controllers and much angst directed toward my dear friend Ricardo. A return to the times where a goodbye would consist of a barely mumbled ‘piss off’ and a fervent wish that Ricardo’s car would somehow run off a cliff in a flaming ball on his way home to Northgate. Ah well, at least I still have Golf (Thanks Nick!!)