Oh, José

Here’s the truth: Earlier tonight I started writing a blog post, but I gave up. I wasn’t feeling it. It’s difficult to write when I’m not feeling it. My mind is blank. I grasp for words, but can’t catch any. It’s like I’m sitting in a boat in the middle of a lake, with my line cast and bobber poised above my hook and bait on calm, even water, and none of the fish are biting. But then, after browsing online a little, I came across this:


It’s a picture of José Mourinho, the manager of my favorite English soccer team, Chelsea FC. They played Barcelona tonight in a pivotal Champions League match, winning 1-0. The picture was taken during the game. From what it looks like José wasn’t too happy at the time.

I don’t know what it is about this picture. It made me laugh when I saw it for the first time. It still makes me smile. I can’t tell if he’s sitting or half squatting out of emotion, so he can stand upright and give momentum to his words as they fly across the field. A lot of soccer managers wear suits and ties, or warm-up gear with the club’s insignia. But José prefers to wear long, dark coats. It’s his trademark look. It’s menacing, and suave. He’s probably the most hated manager in all of English soccer right now. He’s successful and crazy.

I don’t know who the player is in the foreground. Ignore him. He’s running away from what everyone else is focused on.

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