Sunday, 29 June 2014

Mad or Bad?

I'm not a psychologist nor a sociologist. I could barely count as it is. But mental illness have always been something I take an interest in. So much so I've been doing some pro-bono work for autistic and down syndrome kids in recent years. But enough about me.

Luis Alberto Suarez Diaz. Love him or hate him, you can't deny he's a football genius. The passion, the skill, the talent: tinged with the occasional bouts of madness. Occasional, fortunately, but mega, unfortunately.

I'm not here to defend him, or to excuse his behaviour. I'm trying to understand the inner turmoil of a flawed genius.

His father deserted the family when he was 7 (or was it 12?) years old. From my observation, most kids from a broken home are damaged in some way. Facing perceived rejection from a parent at an early age is bound to affect you in some way.

Now combine this with acute poverty. The literal hunger, so to speak.

There was a lady in my kampung whose husband deserted her and their 8 kids. She went around with a bowl, asking for beras to feed her kids. Beras! Not dishes. This is real poverty. Not having enough money for food, let alone football boots.

Kau apa tahu? Spender pun mak belikan sampai umur 25 tahun. Entah ke mak basuhkan sekali.

Suarez went through a childhood of  not knowing where his next meal is coming from. It wasn't until he met Sofia, whose parents fed him, that he started to eat regularly.

When Suarez first moved to Montevideo from Salto, people laughed at his kampung accent. That's probably the least of it. And with that teeth, his childhood couldn't have been pretty. Pun intended. 

Lesser people from the same background would probably crumble and join the drug cartel. But this is Suarez. He's not another ordinary kid.

He managed to find love. And what a great love story it is. A love story that catapulted the boy who played ball with no shoes to a world class player who is equally revered and hated.

Kau apa tahu? Jaafar Onn tak follow twt_cinta pun pernah ada awek dan buat anak.

*******************

Luisito is only 27. Those fatherless, poverty ridden years are not that long ago.

He could probably still taste the desperation, the literal hunger.

Perhaps deep down he fears having to go back to that kind of poverty. Maybe that is the demon that haunts him when the red mist attacks, spurring him to bite.

Perhaps a part of him feels guilty for doing so well. Perhaps a part of him still sees himself as that poor, jeered kid. Maybe that's why he sabotaged himself.

Or perhaps, as the case is with a lot of  geniuses, he suffers from mild autism, like Asperger. Perhaps that explains why he did what he did without provocation. He was the last of the family to move to Montevideo because he doesn't like change. That's another symptom. A lot of people with such condition go through life undetected, only perceived as 'awkward/difficult' by those around them.

The only flaw with the last theory is, surely by now Zhaf Iqbal and Co would have found out.   

Perhaps it's a combination of all three. The poverty-ridden years, his father's desertion and definitely some form of mental illness issue.

 Like I said earlier, I'm not a doctor, I'm not a star, I don't even have my own car.

I don't have the answers, nor the solutions.

What he did was wrong. But that doesn't discount what a great addition to Liverpool he was.

We could have won the league if he wasn't banned from Ivanovich case. But we also wouldn't have finished No 2 without him in the team.

His teammates like him. He is devoted to his family. In Uruguay, he is Robbie Fowler.

He is not a bad person.

He didn't go around raping your daughter, setting fire to your family home or robbing the post office.

Have some perspective. Have some compassion.

As the great Kenny Dalglish - the most compassionate person in football said: "Some people have injuries we can't see."  

Luka di hati siapa yang tahu?


Whether Suarez stays or not, he will always have a special place in my heart. He will always have my respect as one of the greatest strikers to grace Anfield. He made football fun again. The football world would be a greyer place without Luis Alberto Suarez Diaz on any pitch.

I for one, will always root for him, wherever he plays. And I hope he will be able to put the demon that plagues him away.

Lastly, kan dah cakap, lain kali jangan gigit orang. Panggil c*nt takpe. 

Lily
Macai Suarez

*This is a personal view and not representative of anyone else in this blog.



Monday, 27 January 2014

Robbie Fowler - His Legacy

First written: Sunday, 9 November 2008. Reproduced in honour of the anniversary of Robbie Fowler's Second Coming.

Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, Robbie Fowler was caught stealing the hubcabs of a visiting Manchester United bus.

The Bobby, an Everton fan who hated Manures more than he hated Liverpool, told him to disappear quick smart to avoid the gallows.

Herein lies the dilemma. Fowler is revered by many and recognised everywhere. Where could he go?

His father, who was never married to his mother, came up with a solution. "Go to a country where they don't speak English mate".

"But Carra lives right here, Dad."

Robbie was thoroughly confused and went for a walk.

There down the road, he saw a car parked a few doors down from The Rooneys, the brother and sister who married each other and consequently had two ugly sons: John and Wayne. The car was shaking. He peered in and saw a set of dentures on the dashboard.

Thoroughly puzzled, he turned his attention to the back seat and saw a hairy arse bopping away. He knocked on the window and a startled Wayne Rooney turned towards him. Beneath him was an ancient grandma.

She gave Robbie a toothless grin. 'This won't take long. 5 quid and I'm all yours, son. If you want a toothless blowjob, that's extra 5 quid me lad."

Robbie was disgusted. He puked all over Wayne's bald head and pizza face, and ran like he's never ran before, not even when he scored a hattrick against Arsenal in under 5 minutes.

Finally breathless, he stopped in front of a row of shophouses. Catching his breath, he looked up. 'Couscous Algerian Restaurant.'

"Algeria! That's where I'll hide."

He arrived at Algiers Airport the next night. A short cab drive later, he arrived at the town centre. As he wandered around, he happily listened to the noisy Arabic chatter. "No one would know me here"

"Robbie! Robbie Fowler! Robbie Bernard Fowler! GOD!"

Robbie turned around. "What the flying fuc....oh, helloooo"

There stood before him was a vision in white, a creature so exotic, all the WAGS in England, despite their perpetual tanning table tans, paled in comparison.

"My Abuya sent me to London once to learn proper English. But he took me back when he heard David Beckham speak. But I remember you Robbie! I have always worshipped you. I have always wanted to kiss your plastered nose. In my country, we believe people with huge honkers have a huge ..oops " She giggled adoringly while covering her mouth with her fingers.

Robbie was instantly smitten. "Why don't I take you for a drink and tell you all about my huge honkers then?"

They ended up at a dimly lit bar. There, smoking cannabis out of a shishas and drinking goat's milk, Robbie had an epiphany. "I must give this sweet girl the greatest gift of all. I must relieve her of her virginity"

So he took her to back of the pub. And there against a wall, he slipped one up her.

"Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, Oh God."

"You don't have to use my middle name darling. Just call me Robbie."

After that memorable night, Robbie went back to England and resume his football career to become one of Liverpool's greatest strikers, known simply as GOD.

Little did he know he has sired a son, who looks exactly like him.

Many, many years later, the son, naturally, grew up to be a footballer too.

And being Robbie's son, last night Samir Nasri-Fowler did his dad proud by scoring two against his dad's most hated team, The Manures.









Moral of the story: Fowler did a great service to ABUs (Anything But United) worldwide for not pulling out in time.

Congrats Arsenal! Ace one