Fiction: Relief

I wish that I felt like I was an active participant in my life, not skulking, waiting in the side lines similar to a spectator at a sports game. I should be cheering myself on, thriving with ambition, yet a thick dark cloud looms over my head, gradually increasing in size and weight. Soon it will feel as though I am Atlas, carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders, unable to find my balance or stability. I cannot let it get that far. The rain drums repeatedly over the window above my bed, whilst I lay surrounded by words, paper and my misery. Misery is nothing new, however it feels like it will drag me down an unmarked path and one day I will never find my way back. Things have to change, I need to change, I ponder this thought whilst blankly staring at my next assignment. My gaze flickers from this to my TV showing an old re-run of some American sitcom in which the protagonist is a beautiful buxom blonde, I feel even more ordinary. I move and check my phone, nothing, as to be expected. Surely life is more than meeting deadlines, re-runs and waiting for some kind of contact from anyone considered a friend.

"Lily" my mother's voice echoes off the walls into my room. I pull myself out of bed and follow it down the rickety staircase, " have you decided what you're doing for New Years Eve yet?". Sighing I drop down onto the worn brown leather sofa " I have no plans, no invitations, no nothing". My mother stares, finally rises, and clears her throat, declaring " Well whose fault is that, If you didn't hole yourself away and actually.." I cut her off before this entire tirade continued, ".. contacted anyone, I know" growling "I've heard this all before. I don't need this, or you telling me how pathetic my life has become, you. know. nothing" I seethed, clambering over the arm of the sofa, fleeing back to my seclusion.

Every action is controlled, I close my door carefully, walk over to my bookcase, kneel down on my hard wood flooring and retrieve an old cigarette box. Counting, I pull out notes and coins, "$670" I whisper to myself before giving in and collapsing on the floor. I am positive I have a few more dollars in my purse to add to the total I ponder to myself, utterly fed up with the situation I have found myself in at 23 years old. Change is inevitable I reason, the plan forming in the dark recesses of my mind feels like light at the end of the tunnel. My mind is made up, now just for the destination. I bought a new Atlas, taking it out of my bookcase, I stroked the red leather cover and brought it to my nose, it smelled fresh, new, full of opportunity. My sister made fun of me when I grabbed it off the shelf in the local bookstore, " Why the hell do you need that, plan on getting lost?" she joked as she leafed through a cook book, if only she knew how close she really was I chuckled, my mouth feeling tight with that unfamiliar expression.

Flopping down onto my bed I decided on how to go about finding my destination, running my chipped black thumb nail over the pages several times, I decided this was the one, and stopped as I reached near the end. Life has endless opportunities and it's time to fully explore them.........

Sports riots - an excuse to fight

For many years sports fans from all around the world have fought over the sport they love, from Argentineans to the British. Whether fans are from the same country or have travelled half way across the world to see their beloved team play, spats happen, which lead to brawls and then the inevitable riot occurs. After hearing about the recent riot in Vancouver, spurred on by the Canuks loss of the Stanley Cup final to the Boston Bruins, I started to consider sports and violence.

The Vancouver Canuks who were big favourites although only ever having won the title once, were expected to do well this season. Complete mayhem ensued after their 4-0 defeat, looting, fighting, car fires, acts that have only been seen once before in this city's history took over. Riot police were called in and tear gas was used, it has now been revealed that the cost of damages comes to around $5 million. A ridiculous sum of money that could have been spent in more effective ways now goes towards rectifying the chaos caused.

Sports teams in general, often have a following of a specific group of people that deem it necessary to show their solid support by clashing with the opposition. The main point being, is this really justified? Many people go to watch football matches, hockey games, with the intent to enjoy supporting their team from the sidelines. Frequent screams of overwhelming frustration or joy pass through the crowd, the use of foul language is excused as your ‘in the moment’ plus a sports game would simply not be the same without it.

Films, however, like Football Factory and Green Street glorify antics of these groups of violent individuals. It’s not war, its sport, something that’s meant to be enjoyable to watch, a break from the mundane toils of day to day life. It could be these men want to exhort their 'maleness’ and prove their dominance, spurred on by popular culture. Their team is the toughest, meanest, most worthy of the attention, more like a bad version of Rocky Balboa.

Danny Dyer presents a TV programme solely based on showing the catastrophic events that take place within football matches across the world. What is sometimes known as "the beautiful game" is anything but. Highly respected players of decades past such as Pelé, George Best, Bobby Charlton must think, wherever they may be, what has this world come to. When a game so simple, now causes hate and anger and it makes one think, is it worth it? There is already so much pain and suffering in this world, can any more be tolerated?

Again it needs to be reiterated, its sport, and sport by the definition should be recreational, a pleasant pastime to engage in. Not men using it as an excuse to compare whom the alpha male may be.

Of course there are some who take to it differently, as revealed in the now infamous photo of the 'Kissing couple’ from the riot on 16^th June. They sought solace instead of anger, looking out of place, amongst a city at war over sports. 


Friendly rivalry is clearly a thing of the past.