I was thinking this morning about being a savage. A bit more Primitive.
The cause for this was an advert featuring Christiano Ronaldo. It was promoting a brand of football kit, the marketers strategy being, – if you get a little bit of Ronaldo, you’ll be able to perform like him.
This idea of ‘incorporation’ is nothing new for men. In days gone by we’d have fought for the chance to eat the vital organs of a fallen Hero, in the hope that by consuming some of him, his particular qualities would be passed on to us. (See the ‘Telemachus Question’ section of the Guide for the historical perspective of how this played a vital role in the young Tribesman’s journey to becoming a Man)
In fact, this practice is still the norm amongst groups of men where cannibalism is an accepted part of the culture, such as within the Conservative Party. Rumour has it, members are encouraged to gorge on the plump organs of landed gentry and political figures in the hope that their cunning and manipulative skills will be passed on to the next generation… (Having said
that, I’ve also seen Ed Balls licking his lips while staring hungrily at Prescott.)
Thinking back to my days playing football for the local Under-15’s, I worshipped at the alter of the advertiser, buying expensive kit promoted by the football heroes of the time in the hope that it would empower me with basic skills of balance, co-ordination and vision.
I wonder whether my energy and hard-earned pot-washing money would have been better spent on luring Gazza to an abandoned shed? Using a trail of Sambuca shots and Gregg’s Pasties I could
lead him to what he would think was an Aladdin’s Cave of pints and pies… only for him to discover once there that the only things waiting for him are a butcher’s slab and an ambitious 14-year-old with a flick-knife.
Although the only thing Gazza’s raw liver would pass onto an Under-15’s team would be an Dionysian tolerance for booze – and possibly a bout of indigestion – I can’t help but feel I’d stand a better chance of improving my game through this process than by being conned by some marketer wanting to shift boots to lads in the UK that have been stitched together by lads of the same age in a sweatshop…
…in fact, I may have just stumbled upon a new marketing strategy: each boot is soaked in the hope, sweat and tears of a strong-fingered Indonesian child, to help you strike the ball with extra-venom.
Okay, so I got a bit carried away there – if there is a point to the above it’s just to say that while once the idea of incorporation to better ourselves was a sacred and honoured practice, it’s now become a swindlers trick to grab some money.
Men recognise this.
Now, who says my playing days are over? Bring me Ronaldo’s liver on a plate, and his Balls while you’re at it.