You (my massive group of loyal readers) have probably been worried about me the past few months. You may have been confused as to why despite my due dates, apparent free time, and ease of writing, you hadn't had a blog come across your desk in months. Well, I will not apologize. This time off was for you. While the past series has been all about future regarding the Premier League, I realized I had been going about this all wrong. For one does not choose a club which will become part of the fabric of his being, the club chooses him.
Procrastination be damned, it was time to choose. Thus began my months of silent retreat while I contemplated this choice. I entered the wilderness and became a hermit, with no friend sans the soccer ball I brought for inspiration. It's important to clarify that I did not associate any sort of personage to the ball ala Tom Hanks in Castaway. That would be stupid. I may be an idiot, but I'm sure as hell not stupid.
So, I lived in a cave. I stared at the walls. I ate bugs and became an unkempt beast. You know, typical behavior for an aspiring Premier League team fan. I sat waiting and waiting for my inner truth to emerge. While I'm often compared to the Buddha and St. Ignatius of Loyola, this experience really has made me understand my peers a bit better. As I sat in the blistering cold of August, I thought to myself, "I may not be able to do it." I'm not taking about another month in the wilderness, I watched plenty of Survivor Man growing up, so I could've lasted another year if I wanted to. But catching the elusive team which my heart desired seemed impossible. It was the age-old carrot on a stick dilemma.
But as I battled the algid cold of August in southwestern Ohio, it came to me. The years of being the nice guy. The miles logged on the high road. All of the polite behavior which dictated my every move. It was blocking my way. Hooliganism is bad, we can agree on that. But what makes the sports fan fall in love with English soccer is the passion fans have for their club. The grit of it, the anguish, the unbreakable commitment, that's what makes it beautiful. Catharsis is a pretty widely debunked theory. Yet as I came to grips with my past and what it had brought me, the path suddenly seemed clear. I always wanted to be special. Known, adored, admired by all. But I was never going to be the hero. It wasn't going to happen. As I sit there decaying in my cave, chewing on a rock and attempting to play Moonlight Sonata using only what I could scrounge in the wilderness I faced my reality. Continue my life of mediocrity, blend in with the crowd, be the nice guy who finishes last. Unless... Unless there was another way. Maybe there was another path.
Editor's note: it is recommended that at this point in the blog you begin playing your favorite Black Sabbath/Ozzy Osbourne song at a steady crescendo. For dramatic effect and stuff.
There is another path. Anyone can be loved. Anyone can be great and pampered and idolized. But who wants that candy-ass lifestyle. Certainly not me. I wasn't going to be loved. I wasn't going to be famous. I was going to be something more. Something darker. Infamous.
It was at this point I knew who I was. I was a VILLAN. It was at this point the aforementioned cold dissipated as a claret and sky-blue scarf spawned upon my neck. I rose from the ashes. Walked home, completely ignored my family who had filed multiple missing persons reports and had been searching for me since I disappeared. I picked up my computer and composed this letter to my loyal readers. It's Villa time baby.
So that's the decision. The buildup I created and then consequently allowed to die by not writing for months has come to an end. However, this will not be the end of the content on this page. As a loyal and holistically invested fan this is my life now, and what better place to express my life than my thriving website. The bad boy of blogs is so back. You are welcome to join me on this journey if you feel called. I understand not all of you have the sheer fortitude and willpower to write a full 6 mediocre blogs as part of a 12-blog series. But it's good to be back and good to have a home.
If you enjoyed this don't hesitate to share, post, comment, subscribe, etc. If not it's cool though. I'm totally not desperate. You want me I don't want you, don't get it twisted. That's why I write so infrequently, I'm playing hard to get. But that's the blog. There should be more on the way. Until then, stayed prepared.
Passionately penned,
The Founder
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