I began my day like many others in the acceptance that I would not see the game, and therefore rely very heavily on the strength of my already depleted phone, and combined with the near constant refreshing of my twitter to get a somewhat hazy at best picture of what the last hurdle in Champions League qualification would tell me for the day. As I was heading off to school, my mood fairly worn-out by both the aforementioned condition coupled with the first day of the semester that assignments are actually due, I began to feel like this would have been as good a day to not show up as any.
Being the unimaginative lot that I remain to be, I decided to tough it out. Checking Twitter at the mid-point of English class did little to ease the growing tension as seemingly everything I read had some form of panic coupled with the notion that somehow on this night (GMT-0) would result in catastrophe.
Well I will invite you all to the world that dwells outside the CPT-0 time zone, and the agonies that we all manage to somehow allay for a period as we juggle either work, family, some weekly softball team, boxing kangaroos or whatever the hell it is that people actually do in Australia, or yes even in my remote location, school.
When I was outside in the rather temperate heat of the fading summer, thinking of clever ideas to skip out on Sociology class that would not result in my burdened conscience getting heavier to the tune of one less class to worry about, in spite of the 3.0 units that I would no longer need to contend with, when I figured I may as well go be a good little student and simply accept the fact that this game, like so many other mid-week clashes will have to just breeze by unseen.
As I don’t like just giving in to anything, I decided to ask for the starting XI via twitter, and this began a series of rather uncontrollable events. Within a minute I had the full team sheet, the available subs, and some commentary on how the selection looked in the eyes of the Tims.
It also left me with deeper regret as to why I was somehow going to miss out on it. So as I settled into study mindset, and the understanding that my professor is neither the liveliest of sorts nor in many instances able to keep a class of the size interested in whatever the hell it is that he is actually rambling on about, that I figured a running twitter feed coupled with the one and only app that I possess on my phone that seems to give fairly clear updates into the SPL as well as whatever league the Bhoys may be gracing at the moment.
So an already weakened battery (thanks HTC) and a clear understanding that I would be missing this game, had a sudden change of heart when I decided that it was too good an opportunity to pass up. My usual weekend feed does not seem to cater to us droid users, and offers many warnings about being kicked out of the club, as it were, for the attempt at doing so. While my professor sat droning on about the complexities of the dialectual relationship between externalization, objectification, and internalization, (whatever the hell any of that even means, and just be proud that I was apparently taking notes) that I decided it was worth the risk. I called upon a very faithful old sports feed –Android friendly –and as I saw the lads in the tunnel waiting to run out, I knew that I had made one of the best decisions of my life.
I very cleverly had one of the wires feeding my audio cupped in my left hand next to my ear, and that supplied with one of the most painful looks of confusion driven with astute interest, managed to convince everyone at the front of the room that I was actually 100% participating in class. If the professor had focused his gaze on me for more than five seconds while scanning the class, he would have seen the truth however.
So between trying to figure out the timing of his eyes on my quadrant of the room, and the pace of play on the field, as well as the seemingly insurmountable number of pop ups, I was watching Celtic in a game I had all but given up on.
I am not the ideal person to have on your hands, if left to my own devices, and on Wednesday, I showcased those skills for all. It was around the thirtieth minute (or at least what has been confirmed since) that I watched Gary Hooper knock the ball into the net, where I kicked the chair in front of me, and rather audibly shouted ‘get it f*ckin in there ya beautiful b*stard.’
I felt uncomfortable.
But the teacher actually took it all in stride. It is after all a class about social deviance, and I, through whatever misguided efforts simply solidified my position on classroom etiquette and the social norm. With my outburst aside, and the classes laughter subsiding, I felt it reasonable enough to go back to pretending I’m not watching the hoops. I would say that for about five minutes the endeavor was a total success. Right up until my poor little horrendous effort of a mobile, gave up on me. The phone decided it was either too hot, too cold, I was asking too much of it, or admitted finally that it had simply run out of talent, and turned off.
That was to be the last of my updates about the game until 9pm, due to an extended stay in the pub after class to watch the only other team that I care about, in a frantic struggle against the leagues absolute worst. In looking back on the score sheet, had I been watching, I feel that the outburst in my afternoon class, would maybe not have gone over so well.
I guess we all get to find our own way with Celtic, and we all in some manner get to choose the time, place, and excitement we put forth for the club. I’m not entirely certain how I will manage my ‘European Nights’ of Glasgow and beyond while it sits mid-day here at my end of the world, but I cannot wait to find out.
Here is a mighty tall glass raised to the Championees being back where they belong; amongst Europe’s elite, and all those overrated clubs from down south…
SjH (twitter @__SjH__)