My Journey into Darkness and back

As I made my way up the  courthouse steps, I reflected on the events that
had transpired which  resulted in me being summoned to appear before the
Disciplinary Board.   The combination of poor refereeing decisions and
opponents with Balance  Impairment Syndrome seemed to have resulted in a
smudge on my playing  record.  Perhaps the fact that I play for a team that
seems to have  games abandoned on a monthly basis also contributed to me
being singled out  for unfair treatment by the powers that be.  Despite my
predicament,  I felt rather cheery having just keyed a car with a
"Liverpool FC"  sticker on the rear window.  Silly scouse c***.

Upon entering the cavernous hall  of justice, I became acutely aware of the
other league members who had no  doubt perpetrated heinous acts of
footballing violence which required their  own attendance in front of the
board.  Their subdued chatter did little  to hide their nervousness which
stemmed from impending  suspensions.  I, of course, did not belong in the
company of such  ruffians.  I quickly made my way through the crowd to the
players'  lounge where I managed to sit in relative peace while waiting for
the  proceedings to begin.  Along the way I passed the hastily prepared
buffet table that had thoughtfully been set up to help the participants
relax in the rather tense environment.  I glanced quickly at the  offerings
and at first couldn't believe what I was seeing.  I doubt  very much that
the likes of Roy Keane and Patrick Viera have to eat f******  cheese
sandwiches when they're waiting to be f****** suspended.  What  kind of
f****** mickey mouse league is this?  Seeing the way the league  mistreats
its players made me even more determined to avoid any further  appearances
at these outlandish hearings.

Whilst savoring my seventh (or  so) pint, I couldn't help but notice an
unmistakable, yet considerably  annoying, Merseyside accent, emanating from
an unfashionably attired  Liverpool supporter (those ghastly new away
jerseys are somehow even less  attractive when one is also forced to listen
to the monotonous ramblings of  a dole-queue lifetime member) as he
complained about some rather nasty  scratches on his car. "Gosh", I
thought.  I was astonished  and shocked that such a thing could happen in
such a seemingly pleasant  and family oriented neighborhood, but I couldn't
help wondering  who in the room could have done such a thing.  I only had
time to  damage the left side of his car.  I certainly didn't take the time
to  scratch "F****** W*****" in his hood.  Had John Wright attended the
hearing to provide me with moral support?  I couldn't see him so it  must
have been someone else.  A potential new signing for Real Ale  Madrid no
doubt.

With the evening growing rather  stagnant I somehow found myself conversing
with other members of the  league.  Some bloke from  Georgetown seemed to be
involved, in some  way, shape or form, with the disciplinary committee.
Also gathered were various minions  from Clarkson, Red & White ? Ted
Pollack to be precise ? and I think  some other team.  You might be
thinking right now that someone of some moderate importance in the
proceedings was absent.  Yes,  Mr. Mike Kane, the almighty seer of
footballing righteousness, he who  represents the scales of justice for our
fair league, had yet to  arrive.  It must be said what a  marvelous choice
he is for the position.  Why, the league records show that  his team has
received not a single suspension, nor even a lowly yellow card,  in many,
many years.  "Goodness  shall triumph over evil" is personified in an
otherwise scheming scouse  t***.

As the hearing failed to  materialize and despair began to set in, we who
had gathered decided to go  home.  I chose to speak to the  bloke from
Georgetown and indicated that I had earned  a suspension and, by golly, I
wanted one (particularly with us not having a  game next week).  I of
course  acknowledged my part in my first yellow card, as I had brought down
an  opposing striker, rather gently it must be stressed, in an effort to
prevent  a clear scoring chance.  There is no point in disagreeing with a
perfectly accurate decision on the part of the referee.  Even if it was  an
accident that Sir Charlie of Tuna actually made an accurate f******  call.
My second yellow card however, was a ridiculous affront to  footballers
everywhere.  Having been fouled rather viciously, I simply  strolled over
to the perpetrator and whispered a few words of  encouragement.  Having
seen the Clarkson t*** and myself bump into each  other ever so slightly
the b****** in black displayed his shiny yellow card  to each of us.  A
totally undeserved second caution resulted in me  being ejected from the
match.  I then threw myself on the bloke from  Georgetown's mercy and asked
that my  playing record of, not only this season, but also the past 3
seasons, be  taken into consideration in determining any potential
suspension

My groveling complete, I had no  other choice than to leave this hell-hole,
determined more than ever to  avoid a repeat appearance in front of these
disciples of so-called  footballing integrity.  When I next see Mr. Kane I
will of course  resist the urge to remind him that he is a crap league
administrator and a  crap person and that he could stick any potential
suspension up his  bollocks.

Having met my responsibility,  vis a vis presenting myself to the purveyors
of justice, I must say I feel  rather let down by the whole affair.  The
hearing, while scheduled at a  reasonable time, was postponed indefinitely
due to the total incompetence,  lack of resourcefulness and disorganization
on the part of the fearless  leader of the disciplinary committee.
Overall, the lack of  professionalism displayed by those determining the
severity of suspensions  to be assigned was quite appalling.  I put my
feelings on these matters  aside and made my way outside.  The fresh air
was a particular treat  after having been seemingly locked inside the
league offices for what felt  like hours.  The scouser's car was now up on
blocks and my resulting  amusement ensured that the evening wasn't a total
waste.

With only three league matches  left in the season, I, along with my
teammates, must be singularly focused  on not only gaining as many points
as possible, but also on ensuring that  the beer is plentiful and that,
hopefully, we can play the matches with  eleven f****** players on the
pitch.

So, in conclusion, we have these  basic facts.  I was summoned to  a
disciplinary hearing.  I  attended said hearing.  No  suspension was given.
It would  seem I am free to play.