The World Cup had its share of disasters, and in their wake were the words “I quit”, “You’re fired” and “Leave. Please, just leave”.
First there was the departure of Bafana Bafana coach Carlos Alberto Parriera, and then Raymond Domenech was told by France to piss off. Dunga stepped down after Brazil under-performed for the second straight World Cup. So did Maradona.
The players were also among the casualties. Theirry Henry hardly got any game time for France, and is unlikely to play for Les Blues (which is as much true of their kit colour as of their post-World Cup mood). Anelka should be fired from all professional football for being a complete knob. Lampard and Gerrard proved to be among the most over-rated midfielders in the world after dreadful performances for England – neither will be around for the 2014 edition in Brazil. Players just fell by the way side over and over again.
But it was the retirement of another World Cup “legend” that made me so angry. Not because I won’t see him in action again. Not even because he provided some good entertainment. I am angry because he won’t be proven wrong!
Of course, I’m talking about Paul the Octopus. If you read my previous entry (https://matthewsavides.wordpress.com/2010/07/09/theres-a-new-oracle-in-town-but-its-equally-retarded/) you’ll know exactly where I stand on this Octopus issue. In summary: I don’t like the stupid thing. I’m not against it becoming lunch. I wish it was possible for it to drown.
What makes me so angry is that Paul, who is only getting his results right thanks to pure luck and coincidence (it’s just a 50/50 guess each time it has to choose from those boxes), will not have a chance to be proven wrong. And he eventually would have gotten one of them wrong. The balance of probabilities demands so. But now Paul has a perfect World Cup record. And that irritates me, more than you can know.
I want Paul to make a return to action at some point. I want him proven wrong. But I also wouldn’t mind him making another return, namely to a plate in front of me at the dinner table.
I can’t beleive that bastard retired.